


The Prince in the Tower

by EndlessStairway



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Blood, Bondage, Bottom Loki (Marvel), But mainly hurt right now, But not super canon compliant, Chastity Device, Consent Issues, Dark!Tony, Experimentation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, Gaslighting, Hurt/Comfort, I will warn in the notes, Loki Whump, Loki is a test subject, Loki's Punishments, M/M, Magical Binding, No one that we care about dies, Non-Consensual Bondage, Not sure yet how dark, Past Rape/Non-con, Post Civil War, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Slut Shaming, Stockholm Syndrome, Top Tony Stark, Torture, Verbal Abuse, Whipping, not much comfort, not very graphic descriptions of torture, slave!Loki, thrall collar, threats of mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-03-07 18:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 34
Words: 49,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13440951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessStairway/pseuds/EndlessStairway
Summary: Sentenced to slavery by Odin, Loki is rescued by his brother after four years of abuse. Tony Stark reluctantly agrees to take him in, but what kind of treatment can Loki expect at the hands of his former enemy?*****This is the *dark sister fic* to Tony's Thrall - I am honestly not sure how dark it's going to go! This is set after Civil War, but otherwise the initial setup is the same - lets see where it takes us!





	1. Hope

A crashing swirl of rainbow light, and Thor was gone.

Loki felt his absence immediately, a physical ache. Thor was not only his brother and his savior, he was the only person in the whole of the nine realms who cared about Loki. His brother, shining golden and furious, had blasted into the Nidavellir stronghold and slain Loki's master Hreidmar with a single blow from his hammer. Loki hardly remembered what had happened after that. The thrall-binding had broken when Hreidmar fell, and plunged Loki into a maelstrom of confusion and panic. He was a slave with no master, and that was a dangerous thing to be.

He remembered Thor dragging him from the forge. The bifrost throwing them both through the realms. Landing in the cold and dark, wind whistling around them. The binding all the time was lurching wildly, un-anchored. Loki fought it, and it crushed him. He could not speak, could not move without being dragged. If Thor had spoken the words to claim him, he could at least have cooperated with his own rescue, but he was helpless, useless.

Thor had growled a few words to his shield-brother Anthony Stark, low and urgent. Stark had objected at first, then acquiesced when Thor insisted. Loki watched them speaking together but could understand little. The noise in his mind was overwhelming. All he could feel was the need to serve, to be useful, to be  _ obedient. _ He had no orders, and no living master, so he could do nothing to appease the binding.

With Thor gone, was Stark his master now? The binding was swirling darkly in his mind, looking for somewhere to land. Loki tried to pull it away from Stark, but was immediately punished. He fell to his knees and silently shuddered, pain shooting down his spine. A yellow glow from the gems in the thrall-collar reflected in the glass windows of Stark's tower. Loki frantically put all attempts at resistance out of his mind, and the punishment faded, leaving him weaker than ever.

Loki cautiously looked up. Stark was glaring at him, arms folded. He did not look pleased, and that was ill tidings for Loki. The binding  _ pushed _ at him, not punishing, but a clear message that a slave should not be raising his gaze to free men. Loki lowered his head, gripped his thighs with trembling hands.

Stark was talking. Loki tried to focus on the words. The binding weighed him down, it took all his attention to fight the weight of it. He was afraid that if he relaxed his focus the binding would simply force him unconscious, the safest state for a slave with no master. He could not let that happen, he would be utterly helpless to whatever Stark wanted to do with him. He doubled his effort, concentrating on the words floating over his head.

“I guess you'll be staying for while.” Stark said, gesturing Loki to stand up. Loki didn't move. Did he have to obey? Tentatively, Loki waited. Pressure built from the binding, but not the immediate punishment that he would have had for refusing an order from Hreidmar. Perhaps Loki could find some way to manipulate the binding in it's weakened state.

“Come on!” Stark said, and Loki felt the first spark of pain down his spine. He scrambled to his feet, and the pain faded. He followed Stark at a respectful distance, no doubt heading to whatever cells he kept in his tower. These modern Midgardians claimed not to keep slaves, but that was mere lip service. Rich men like Stark could command any service they wished. Maybe that is why Thor had left him here, to repay a debt to his ally.

Lost in his thoughts, Loki startled when Stark led him into a comfortably furnished bedroom. Ah. Stark was already aware of Loki's purpose. He had not heard Thor explain the nature of Loki's binding, but he had not heard half of what was said during his rescue. Once Stark had claimed him in such a fashion, the binding would certainly know him as Loki's new owner.

The binding  _ pushed _ at Loki, and he suppressed the urge to undress, to present himself. If Stark was going to have him, he would at least wait to be ordered. He had barely a scrap of his former pride, but he clung to it. Loki remained on his feet, swaying slightly.

Stark looked Loki up and down and wrinkled his nose. “Get cleaned up before you go to bed,” he said, then left the room, closing the door after him. Loki heard a lock engage, and for a moment he stood in place, unable to believe that he was alone. His only order was to clean himself and sleep? Loki twisted his hands together uncertainty, but when he glanced at himself in the full length mirror he understood. He was filthy. Blood splattered on his face from Thor's rescue. His clothes were little more than rags. His hair tangled and greasy. Hreidmar had delighted in Loki's shabby, pathetic appearance, but clearly Stark had a different expectation. Loki was unappealing to him. Even if Stark intended to claim him, he would not do so in such a state. He would not dirty himself with such a wretch.

The binding  _ pushed _ him again. Loki moved before his hesitation was punished as disobedience. The binding had not recognized Stark as Loki's master, but he had given an order by a free man and there was nothing for him to do but obey. A sliding door opened to reveal a bathing room, with bathtub, shower, basin and toilet. Loki caught his breath. For four years he had cleaned himself in a pail of cold water, with a rag and whatever soap he could beg from the servants. This was unheard of. Slaves did not have private bathrooms. Why was he not in Stark's servant quarters, or in his secure holding cells? Loki knew why, the same reason that Hreidmar had made him sleep on the cold stone floor of his bedchamber. It was his purpose, and Stark would not want to wait on his desire by keeping Loki far away.

Loki entered the bathing chamber, trying not to allow himself to hope that this new situation would not be so bad. Even if Stark was going to use him in such a manner, perhaps he would be kind. He had allowed him this room, told him to bathe, to sleep. Loki would wish for some food but he knew he would not get that before he had fulfilled his purpose. This was enough, he would not be greedy. He had eaten that morning anyway, when Hreidmar had allowed him the scraps from his breakfast plate.

Loki turned the taps over the bath, hot water rushed out. Hot water! He was almost dizzy with desire for it. He stripped off his clothes, folding them on the counter. He would wash them after he had cleaned himself, try to improve his appearance as much as he could. It was to his benefit to try to please his master.

Loki froze. He had thought of Stark as his master. He gently explored the binding, and found Stark there. The binding was weak and new, but well enough to control Loki, especially with no competing claims. Loki hung his head. The anticipated pleasure of the bath vanished. Was he so easily claimed? Loki knew that he was. He was a slave and a slave needed a master. He touched the metal collar locked around his neck. He knew of no way to remove it, and while it held him, he was subject to the power of the binding.

It was no matter. Loki deliberately relaxed his hands that had clenched to fists. Stark would have claimed him soon enough anyway. Loki had no way to resist, and once Stark had made use of his body, the binding would have completed. Better to try and please him, perhaps earn privileges or even rewards. Loki shook his head and cursed himself for a fool, but he could not help but hope that this Midgardian would treat him kindly.

A quick search of the bathroom cabinets gave him small bottles of soap for his body and hair, washcloths and towels. There was nothing that would allow him to prepare himself for his master's desires. He took a deep breath. His master would have him as he pleased, and he would hope for kindness but it was not up to him.

Loki stepped into the bath and warm water lapped at his body. He lay back, allowing himself one moment to revel in it. The warm water was so enticing, so soothing on his aching body. He began to clean himself as slowly as he dared. The water quickly turned a murky grey and Loki drained and refilled the bath. He washed his hair and ducked his head under the water to rinse off the soap. He scrubbed at his fingernails, both cringing at his sorry state and enjoying the fresh clean skin that was revealed.

When he was satisfied that he was clean, he drained and rinsed the bath. He would scrub it when he had found the cleaning supplies. Perhaps cleaning would be one of his duties too. He had seen no other servants, and Loki could hope to be useful to Stark in more than one way.

Loki wrapped a fluffy towel around his waist and went back into the bedroom, looking for cleaning supplies. Instead, he saw a large paper bag on the bed that had not been there before. Loki glanced around the room. No one was there. He peeked into the bag, and pulled out the contents. Clothes. Soft, clean, new clothes. They looked to be in his size too. Loki's stomach turned. He had done nothing to deserve such a gift, did he presume too much that these items were for him, unearned? He laid out the clothes. They were in Midgardian style, soft shirts with no buttons or clasps, pants in a rougher material, both blue and black. Small shorts that Loki presumed was underwear. Even socks. Was he supposed to dress? Or should he remain naked? He had been told to bathe and sleep, not to dress. But his master had provided these clothes, so he must want Loki to wear them. Perhaps he would enjoy seeing Loki dressed in clothing of his choice. Uncertain what to do, Loki stood by the bed, looking at the clothes. He had no orders, and he was unused to being unsupervised.

Eventually, he put on underwear and one of the soft shirts, and put the rest of the clothes away in the empty closet. There was nothing left for him to do but sleep. He looked at the soft bed. Stark had told him to wash before he went to bed, implying that he could to use the bed. But he was a slave, and slaves slept on the floor. No, he corrected himself, slaves slept where they were told to sleep. The binding was not pushing him in either direction. The order had been given casually, hardly even an order, and Stark’s control of the binding was still weak. Loki steeled himself and decided to take the bed. He had been put in this room. If his master thought to visit him in the night, he would want a warm bed to have him in.

Loki slipped under the covers. The soft bed and cozy blankets were like heaven. He had slept on cold floors for most of the past four years. This warm bed was like reliving a dream, a dream of when he had been a person, not a slave, when he had been worth something. He tried to stay awake, to listen for the door opening, for any call or sign that his presence was wanted. But moments after he lay his head on the pillow, his eyes were closing. Clean, dressed, and hopeful for once, Loki fell asleep.


	2. Jump

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I am so excited to the be writing for you again, thank you so much for your supporting comments on chapter one! 
> 
> I got some comments/questions on how dark this fic is gonna be - first off, I totally understand if people drop this fic if it's not to their taste, no hard feelings or explanations required at all. I will keep the tags updated and warn in the notes when things change, but for now Tony and Loki are just getting to know each other, nothing very bad is going on.

Loki awoke, heart pounding. He felt the soft surface of the bed, the blankets twisted around him. It was dark, he was in Stark's tower. He laid still, controlled his breathing. Listening hard for anyone else in the room, but heard nothing. He was still alone.

There was no clock in the room, but judging from the darkness he had not overslept. It would not look well for him to linger in bed on his first day in this place. He pushed back the covers and stood. The night in the soft bed seemed to have awakened every pain in his body. He could feel everything from the bruises and cuts from Hreidmar's whip, to the deeper aches inside him, reminders of his purpose. He could hope that Stark would treat him more gently, but he would not earn any gentle treatment by wasting time in this room. Quickly, Loki washed and dressed himself. If he was not supposed to dress he would await the order to strip. Better that than debase himself too willingly.

He tested the door, but it was still locked. He had no orders, nothing in this room to occupy him. He had already cleaned and put everything away. The binding  _ pushed  _ at him, and Loki paced the short length of the room. He was useless here, he was not working or following any order. He had washed and slept, that was all Stark had told him to do. Uncertain of what else to do, Loki knelt on the carpet facing the door. If Stark was to come for him, he would not be found lounging comfortably. He ignored the insistent  _ push _ of the binding, telling him he should be working, should be obeying, should be useful. Instead, he tried to focus and center himself. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He had tried to preserve something of himself during his subjugation, some corner of his mind that still belonged to him. Mediation was the only tool available to him that had not been taken away.

He took another deep breath. He maintained his kneeling posture, not ideal but much more accepted for someone of his status. Hreidmar had never known of his meditation, thinking him instead silent and cowed. In truth, sometimes he was right.

Loki tried to silence his mind. Breathing slowly, he diverted his thoughts from his situation, from the binding, from his stress and worry over what would await him this day. Where before, he would fill his mind with awareness of his magic, the paths between realms, the universe itself, now he focused on himself, on his body, his breathing. It was no less true, no less of an anchor. Or so he told himself.

The sun was well over the horizon when the lock of the door clicked and Stark stood before him. Loki held his breath and kept his head down, waiting for orders. Stark strolled into the room and sat on the bed behind Loki. Loki stayed still. He didn't like having Stark out of his view but it would not be acceptable to turn around. The binding was practically panting in eagerness for an order to follow. 

Stark sighed. “This is not super convenient, you know.”

Loki stiffened. This was not a good start. Stark was not pleased.

“Thor kinda dumped you here and told me you're my slave now. I'm guessing there's a lot of details he missed.” Stark sounded tired, resigned. The teasing tone that Loki recalled from their encounter in this very penthouse four years ago was gone. Maybe in his reduced state, Loki was no longer worth the effort.

“OK, well, I don't have any other place to send you, or frankly anyone else I would trust not to turn you into a vivisection project, so I guess you're staying with me. You DO follow orders, don't you?”

Loki was unable to respond verbally. Hopefully his submissive posture would speak for him. He felt a hard shove between his shoulders, he realized it was Stark's foot as he was pushed forward until his face was on the floor, Stark's foot on his back. Loki controlled his breathing, tried not to show fear. If Stark was going to give him a beating now, there was nothing he could do about it. If Stark wanted a show of submission, he would give him one.

Stark kept him down for only a few moments, then stepped back with a huff. “Come on then. Let see what that collar is all about.”

Stark led him to a large workroom, crowded with tables, tools and technology. Loki’s breath punched out of him when he recognized a stack of Chitauri artifacts strewn on a table. He looked around and saw more. Chitauri weapons, unrecognizable Chitauri technology combined with Midgardian computers. He reeled. What was Stark doing? He was surely not so arrogant as to think he could understand the ancient Chitauri artifacts? Even the Chitauri themselves did not understand them. They recovered them from the temples and shrines of their ancestors and used them in base ignorance.

Stark did not seem inclined to explain what he was doing. He pointed Loki to a clear space in the clutter, where the floor was marked into a grid pattern. Loki went and stood there. Stark rummaged about the room, turning on machines and pointing them in Loki’s direction.

“OK, let's see what we have.” Stark muttered to himself. He picked up a molded band with a clear glass square set off center. Loki recognized it as Chitauri in origin but he didn't know what it was. His stomach churned when Stark raised it to his own head and it clicked into place around his temples. Stark was using Chitauri technology on his own body! Loki felt nauseous. He had seen first hand what the Chitauri did to their bodies, implanted and enhanced with artifacts they scrounged from burial sites and temples, turning them into mindless drones. What did Stark think he was doing? Stark clicked a smaller band around one wrist and gestured with his hand. Both artifacts glowed to life, casting eerie light across Stark's face and hand. The glass screen on the headband lit up with fast moving text that Loki could not read. The band around Stark’s wrist cast a facsimile control panel in front of his fingers, which he immediately began to use. The machines surrounding Loki began to beep and chatter. Stark circled, looking through and around him, his raised hands touching and manipulating things that Loki could not see. Loki tried not to lean away from Stark when he came closer. The ugly metal of the Chitauri device set against his mortal flesh was disgusting. Loki held still by force of will, even when the hand with the wrist band reached out and brushed through the air close to his face.

“Jump.” Stark’s voice sounded far away. Was Loki imagining the slight echo? Loki risked a glance at Stark's face. His eyes were flicking almost too fast to follow, the Chitauri screen casting a sickly glow over his features.

Too late, Loki realized he had been given an order. He tried to obey at the same time as the binding tried to force him. He managed a short jerk off the ground as the collar started to glow and the pain came. He remained on his feet with effort and prayed for Stark to give him another order quickly, so that he could obey and head off the upcoming punishment. Luckily, he did.

“Interesting. Again.”

This time, Loki jumped immediately, no push from the binding or punishment. Stark hummed, “That was different. Repeat the same action from the first time.”

Loki now was in an impossible situation, Stark had ordered him to disobey an order. Whether he jumped or not the punishment would come. He clenched his teeth and braced himself. Moments later the collar flared, and this time it did not stop. There was nothing he could do. Loki fell to his knees and shook as shocks wracked his body. Cold sweat broke out on his face, he wrapped his arms around himself and tried to remember to breathe.

“Woah! What’s that? What’s happening? Stop! Why are you doing that? Get up!”

Loki staggered to his feet, sweaty and pale. Stark was looking at him, expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. He had removed the headband and was spinning it in his hands. The wristband was dull and lifeless.

“Was that what I think it was? Why do those gems glow like that? Is it hurting you? I assume yes, stupid question. What IS that thing?” Stark kept up a monologue of questions and comments, half to himself. Loki listened in case he was given any more orders, but Stark seemed to forget he was even there. Stark turned to a screen projected in the air next to him. It flowed with data and charts, too small and complex for Loki to attempt to follow, but Stark seemed to take it all in. After a few minutes, he stopped muttering and looked directly at Loki.

Can you talk? I need you to talk, this is going to be much easier if you can answer my questions. What's going to get you talking?”

Loki could not talk, not until he had fulfilled his purpose. He realized with a sinking heart that Stark had no idea what that purpose was. Loki shuddered. He would have to make it known. He was no stranger to debasing himself, after four years as the bed-slave of a man like Hreidmar. Stark was still looking at him, questioning. Loki closed his eyes and steeled himself. 

Loki sank to his knees, as gracefully as he could. He considered removing his shirt, but he had no idea if Stark even liked men, never mind if he found Loki attractive. Four years of abuse had not improved his already too thin and too dark looks. It was too risky, so he kept the shirt on. Instead he put two of his own fingers in his mouth, slowly drawing them out, sucking and licking at them as he did so. The message was clear, and Stark got it right away.

“Oh no! No! No way! Are you serious?” Stark held up his hands and stepped back. “Nope. Sorry. If you think I’m putting anything of mine between your teeth, you can think again! Contrary to popular belief, I am  _ not _ that stupid.”

Loki had not anticipated that reaction. There was no possibility that he could do Stark any injury. The binding would probably kill him if he tried. At minimum it would drop him unconscious and let Stark kill him himself. He had no way to explain that in his restricted state, so he took the only other option he could think of. He turned around and presented himself. Although he was fully clothed, he still flushed with the shame of it. Head down, legs spread, ass up. He was glad for the hair that fell over his face, at least hiding him from Stark's gaze. What would he think, seeing his former enemy lowered to such a state? No words came, no order to move, so Loki stayed. Was Stark enjoying the sight? Or was he horrified at the thought of dirtying himself with someone such as Loki. Loki was hardly virginal. Stark could afford whatever he wanted from a bed partner, he did not have to settle for a well-used slave. A male one at that. Tears gathered in Loki's eyes, he blinked them away. If Stark did not want him, what would become of him? He jumped in fear when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but the touch was surprisingly soft.

“Get up, Loki.” Stark said, and Loki did, hiding his wet face. Stark crouched next to him, lips pursed. He looked almost angry, and Loki wondered what he had done wrong. Perhaps he had insulted his master by implying he would want to have anything to do with him.

“Go back to your room.” Stark ordered. Loki got to his feet, and fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to give me your ideas and suggestions, I love to read all your comments!


	3. Bench

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so things are getting serious now. We're at the "extremely dubious consent" part.

Loki paced.

The door to his room had locked behind him, and again he had no orders to follow. Worse, he had debased himself in front of his new master and he had rejected him. Not that he had been looking forward to being used, but he _had_ been looking forward to possibly being fed after. It had been over a full day since he last ate, and Loki's stomach was starting to cramp.

He paced.

The sun was down when the door clicked and Stark walked in. Loki dropped to his knees and was glad that he was forced to keep his eyes down, because he could not bear to look up at his master. Stark held so much power over him, but he did not seem to care. Loki was an inconvenience to him. A delicious smell filled the small room and Loki clenched his fists. Had Stark bought food to taunt him? Stark put a plastic bag down on the dresser and sat on the bed, again putting himself out of Loki's view. There was silence for a few moments.

“OK, so I’m going to go out on a limb here, when Thor told me you would be _of service_ he wasn’t just talking about helping me around the lab.” Tony stood again and walked around the room, restless. He pointed to the bag, “There’s food for you, if you can eat it.” Tony sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I really don’t need this shit. Lab assistant, maybe, if you can behave yourself. But not…” Tony cut himself off and walked to the door. “If you can’t eat without being _of service,”_ Tony rolled his eyes and emphasized the words, “then come find me in the lab. You don’t have to. It’s up to you. I’m not going to make you.”

Tony stalked out and this time the door didn’t lock. Loki could barely think for the smell of the food. His mouth was watering and stomach growling. He peeked into the bag. Hot, spiced rice, with meat and vegetables. And so much of it! Was this intended to last him for several days? He could not recall when he last had meat that wasn’t a scrap from his master’s plate. Or even had hot food at all. It had been years. Reluctantly, Loki placed the food bag in the closet and closed the door. If he tried to eat it now, the binding would punish him and he would likely vomit up whatever he did manage to eat. It was not worth it.

He resumed pacing. The binding was pushing at him to go find his master immediately. Loki focused and tried to ignore it. So Stark had not rejected him, after all. Perhaps Stark had simply been taken off guard, with Thor’s limited explanation of his purpose. Loki paused. Did Thor even know of how the binding had been placed on him? He obviously knew of how Hreidmar had been using him, and had killed him for it. But why bring him to Stark to be used in the same way? Loki filed the question away. It would do him no good to speculate and distract himself from what he had to do now.

Loki gave in to the constant niggle of the binding. He would succumb to it sooner or later, and at heart Loki still was a survivor. He would do what he had to do. He took a long shower and cleaned himself thoroughly. Midgardians had none of the useful magics of the other realms, and Loki did not want to present himself in anything other than a pristine state. He had been severely punished for far less. After consideration, he put on the clothes. Even if he was going to have to remove them again shortly, he would rather not walk through Stark’s home naked. The relief from the binding as he opened his door and walked toward the lab was very welcome. The binding never rewarded him, but sometimes the cessation of the constant pressure felt like a reward.

The glass door to the lab slid open as he approached. Evidently he was expected. Loki did not allow his pace to slow as he entered. It would not do to show reluctance. Stark was on the opposite side of the room. He had a heavy mask over his face, shaping a piece of gleaming metal with a hot flame. How primitive. Stark lifted the face mask when he saw Loki standing waiting on him. Loki was relieved to see that he did not have the Chitauri device around his temples.

“Ah.” Stark said, and turned off the flame. “OK, so, we’re doing this? Remind me to punch Thor in the face when he comes back.”

Loki waited, uncertain. Stark did not seem pleased to see him, or pleased that Loki was available to him, to satisfy his desires. Loki again circled on the thought that he was not attractive to his new owner. Maybe Stark did not desire men. It was not so common on Midgard after all. If he had his magic he could glamor himself to whatever appearance Stark would desire. But if he had his magic, he would not be in this situation at all. Loki tried to stop his useless thoughts. He was here to serve his purpose, and hopefully be allowed to eat after. That was all he needed to concern himself with.

Stark waved him over to the far end of the lab, where Stark had a tatty couch, refrigerator and other comforts. Loki was beginning to understand that this place was the real heart of Stark’s home, not the clean and styled rooms upstairs.

Stark took off his heavy apron and gloves, washed his hands. “Alright, strip. Actually, you can keep your shirt on,” he ordered, not wasting any time. Loki pushed his pants and underwear off, folding them neatly on a workbench. Stark guided Loki over to a low bench in front of a messy table. He sat Loki astride it and put a firm hand on his back put him down on his belly. Loki was left alone for a moment as Stark went back to the other side of the lab where he had been working. He came back and showed Loki what he had created. It was a set of heavy shackles, a short chain between them. Loki shivered but didn’t move. Had he not been obedient enough? But it was no matter. if his master wanted him chained, then he would be chained. Stark clamped one of the shackles around Loki's wrist. He passed the chain through a convenient bolt in the floor under the bench and secured Loki's other wrist. Loki did not test the chain. There was no point. He was secured to the bench, hands chained underneath it, his chest and belly pressed to the metal surface, the edges of the bench digging into his spread thighs. This was tolerable, he told himself. It was no matter, to be had in such a manner. It was better than Hreidmar, who frequently had him bent over in the dining hall in front of his whole house. He tried to stop himself from shaking. It was cold, he told himself. The metal of the bench was cold.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.” A warm hand on his back, rubbing in a slow circle. “You don't love the cuffs, but we're going to use them for now. I may not trust you, but I'm not going to hurt you."

The warm hand went away, and Loki heard rummaging on the table, small sounds, a package opening, maybe? Stark kept talking.

“You’re actually in good company. This bench has a proud history, it's seen a lot of action! Not so much recently, but you know...”

The chatter continued and Loki took a few breaths to calm himself. He closed his eyes. The bench smelled like the workshop, like Stark himself, of metal and oil and sweat. The hand returned, on his hip now, thumb rubbing a slow circle on his skin. “Hey...it’s OK...you want to stop?”

Loki gripped his hands together under the bench to stop the chain clinking from his shaking. Did he want to stop? What he wanted was irrelevant. He had to do this. He had to submit to it. The binding was in his mind always, pushing, pushing him to subjugate himself, to be obedient, to be good, to be useful. If he was not, he would be punished. He would not be fed, and the pressure of the binding would become unbearable. He could not answer directly, so he tipped his hips up in encouragement. Stark sat on the bench behind him, his pelvis pressing up to Loki’s bare ass. Loki squirmed, aware of his wide spread thighs and Stark’s gaze upon him. He was unsure whether to be grateful or not that Stark allowed him to keep his shirt on. He would prefer to stay dressed, but he was afraid that it meant Stark did not want to look at him, did not find him attractive. No doubt he would not find the fading lash marks across his back appealing. Or maybe he would! Hreidmar had liked to see the evidence of his handiwork on Loki's flesh. Loki simply didn’t have enough information, but it didn’t matter, because here he was. Bound, bent over and spread. Ready to be taken by his new owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I DID leave it there. Feel free to yell at me in the comments!


	4. Cup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it people...tags are updated. Highly highly dubious consent. Non Con is also tagged, you know "it's complicated", but lets stay safe.

A warm hand on his back, soothing him as if he were a restless animal. Loki hated that the gesture comforted him, as though he was not aware that the owner of the hand was about to make use of his body the way so many others had done.

“Deep breath,” Stark told him, “let it out slowly.” Loki did it. It was easier to just do what he was told. Don’t even think about it.

“Good, another one.”

This time, as Loki breathed out, he felt a slick finger at his entrance, circling. He took another breath without being told, as he breathed out the finger eased inside. The sensation was uncomfortable, but not painful. Loki knew enough to be grateful for the use of lubricant and the preparation. He was not always so lucky.

“There we go, that’s good.” Stark had a gentle tone, moving his fingers slowly, but firmly. He knew what he was doing, so Loki at least knew that he was not averse to taking male lovers. Maybe it was only him that Stark was not attracted to. Loki shut his eyes, then opened them again, unwilling to be inside his own head with this sensation. He looked at the floor, under the table a few random objects had fallen and been forgotten. A pen, a tool of some kind, some wire, a paper cup. Loki looked at the cup. Probably it had contained that bitter coffee drink that Midgardians liked so much. It was crumpled slightly, the seam of the paper stained darker where the drink had seeped through.

“Breathe.”

The hand was on his hip now, keeping him in place, not that he would have moved away. It would do him no good to resist, and he could not hope for kinder treatment than he was currently receiving. To be touched gently and prepared for his role and not to hurt. It had not been that way for him for years now.

Loki breathed. The first, deep thrust pushed him forward on the bench but the shackles caught him and he was pinned. Stark was done with taking things slow. Maybe he did not desire Loki but no doubt if he looked away it could be anybody laid out before him, and he didn’t wait, just groaned and pushed and Loki looked at the cup on the floor. He did not struggle. He did not care that the shackles rubbed the flesh of his wrists with every thrust or care that his body was opened and used and he was split apart and taken by his master.

Stark did not draw it out. He finished with Loki in a couple of minutes, he panted and thrust one final time and shoved him hard against the pull of the shackles. The bright chime of the binding sounded in the quiet. A blue glow shone from the collar, reflected on the concrete floor and the underside of the table. The pressure of the binding lifted and Loki felt the weight ease from his mind, almost dizzy with sudden relief. He didn’t move, just breathed and lay as he had been put and waited for his next order. His mind went to the food waiting upstairs. Would he be allowed to eat?

Stark sounded short of breath, “That light’s good, right?”

Loki nodded, “Yes, master.” The sound of his own voice surprised him. It had not even been so long since the binding was activated, but the Nidavellir didn’t much care what he had to say.

“Hey it worked! You can talk!” Stark sounded pleased. He squeezed Loki's hips and pulled out of his ass, moving around behind him, rearranging his clothing. Loki closed his eyes and tried not to hope that he was finished with for now. He forced himself not to move, not to pull on the chains that held him down on the bench. There was nothing stopping Stark from keeping him here for as long as he wished. That was up to him. At least there did not seem to be any of Stark's teammates in the tower. If Stark wanted to invite anyone else to have a turn with Loki, there was nothing he could do but take it. He belonged to Stark now, and Stark was free to share him if he wanted to.

Loki snapped his eyes open when the weight dropped from his wrists. Stark had opened the shackles from where he stood, using a device he held in his hand. Loki cautiously sat up.

“You can go.” Stark said, already turning away from him. “Go eat, sleep, whatever. FRIDAY will tell you what to do tomorrow. I won’t be here.”

Loki did not know who this “Friday” person was, but he knew a dismissal when he heard one. He gathered his clothes, not stopping to dress and left the workshop. Stark was already back at work, no longer paying him the slightest attention.

Outside the door Loki pulled his pants on and fled back to his room. Not his room, he corrected himself. The room Stark allowed him to use. The door locked behind him and Loki leaned against it, shaky and breathing hard. He was fine. He was not injured. He had not even been threatened with injury. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned forward, taking deep breaths and trying to slow them down. The adrenaline of a flight response was in his blood but there was no threat, and he had nowhere to run. He needed to calm himself. Instead, his legs folded under him and he slid down the door, knees to his chest, arms wrapped around his head. He was fine. He was fine. This was ridiculous. He had endured far worse this very week and had not been crying like a babe. Loki pulled on his hair, growling through gritted teeth. He scolded himself, unable to stop.

_ Stop it. Stop it. Control yourself. You’re being pathetic. _

Loki scrambled for the bed and pulled the blankets down, wrapping himself in them, burying himself, heart pounding, gasping fast, urgent, breaths. This was not safe. This room was not safe, Stark could come in here whenever he pleased. There was nowhere to hide.

_ This fortress of blankets is not safe either, you fool. _

Loki gasped out a laugh. Then he was silent. He pushed the blankets away from his face so he could at least breathe. He centered himself, using a simple meditation. Frigga had taught him when he was a child, furious and inconsolable at some harsh treatment he no longer remembered. Deep breaths, clear mind. He was fine, he was unhurt, Stark had been kind, no taunts, no causal slaps to his face, no threats. Loki could not understand why that kindness had been so much harder to tolerate than the harsh treatment he was accustomed to. It was what he had been hoping for, after all. That must be why Thor gave him to Stark, he must have known that he would use Loki well.

Loki extricated himself and rearranged the blankets on the bed. He took a shower and dressed in a clean shirt and underwear. He did not look in the mirror, did not touch the heavy metal collar around his neck. He took the now-cold bag of food out of the closet and cracked open the plastic container. Even cold, the smell of the food set his stomach growling. There was a plastic fork in the bag, small packets of seasoning, a folded paper napkin.

Carefully, Loki took a small towel from the bathroom and laid it on the floor. He placed the food, fork, napkin, seasonings and a cup of water from the bathroom faucet atop it. He sat cross-legged at his makeshift table, nudged the napkin to more perfectly line up with the cup. Only when he had everything arranged to his satisfaction did he pick up the fork and begin to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...anyone want to wrap Loki back up in the 'fortress of blankets' and take care of him?
> 
> *raises hand*


	5. Work

The next morning, the weight of the binding was pressing back onto Loki’s mind. He had not expected it to be otherwise. The binding only lifted when his master’s desires were well satisfied, and Stark had not seemed especially satisfied with Loki last night.

It was disconcerting to alone, and Loki did not know what to make of it. Part of him was glad for it. Glad not to have hands and eyes on him, to be something other than an object to be used. But at the same time, the binding was relentless. He  _ should _ be used, he  _ should _ have hands on his body,  _ should _ be humiliated and hurt. That was his purpose now. His punishment. And he could not escape it.

Loki showered and dressed. The Midgardian clothing his master had provided for him had no variety of color or style, but it was warm and well fitting. Unwilling, Loki recalled his previous life. Masquerading as a prince of Asgard, with fine clothes and comfortable rooms and food whenever he wished. There was no point dwelling on that fantasy, and he tried never to think of it. He had been cast out, he had failed to serve the purpose that Odin had set for him, and this was his punishment. To serve another purpose, for another master.

Loki sat on the bed and waited for Friday to summon him. Perhaps Friday was Stark’s head servant. He had not seen any other servants in his short time in the penthouse, or even on his first visit during his ‘invasion’. At the time, he had presumed they had all fled in fear, but now he wondered. Was Stark the type of master who preferred his servants to flee his presence, to hide away in servant passages and do their duties invisibly? Such an approach was a little out of style in Asgard, but perhaps it was the fashion on Midgard. In his previous life, Loki had rather enjoyed having servants around. They were a comfort when he was young, and the target of his mischief when he was slightly older. Loki flushed with shame now, recalling how he had delighted in such tricks in his youth. Making servants trip or stumble, moving items they were looking for, transforming things they were holding. Practicing his magic, he had called such tricks. He had had no idea of the servants lives, nor had he cared to. He had been too prideful in his magic and too foolish in his status to consider what it meant to a servant to drop their platter in front of a prince, or, worse, the Queen or Allfather himself!

Loki looked down at his hands. This was no more than he deserved. He had not been fit to be a prince, and now he knew why. He was not one. He was an imposter, a lowly Jotun, a snake in Asgard’s golden bosom. Well. No longer. Now he was a bedslave, a whore. And he belonged to a man who did not want him in his home, did not trust him, and did not desire him.

Loki thoughts circled darkly as he waited for the door to open and for Friday to appear, to instruct him in his duties for the day. Instead, a pleasant female voice with a musical accent came from the air.

“Loki, please report to the lab.” The door clicked open and there was nothing for Loki to do but obey.

There was no one in the lab when Loki entered, but the lights came on and the voice, presumably Friday, spoke again.

“Mr Stark is out of town. He has left instructions for you for today.” A screen lit up next to him with a list of tasks. “Mr Stark asked me to remind you that the lab is under constant surveillance, and he will be aware of any deviation from your assigned tasks.” The threat was unspoken, but Loki heard it well enough. If he did not complete his master’s orders, he would be punished. His eyes skimmed down the list and his heart sank. He would be in the lab all day to complete this list, and he would get no reprieve from the binding for performing these tasks. Cleaning, tidying, scrubbing and sorting would not lift the binding, no matter how hard he worked. As Stark was gone for the day there was little he could do. If he did not obey, the consequences would be worse for him. He got to work.

His first task was to clean up all the garbage around the lab. He collected all the half eaten food, drinks containers, crumpled paper, candy wrappers and put them in the garbage can. Loki even went under the table and retrieved the paper cup that he remembered from last night. He had an irrational urge to keep the cup, somehow to take it to his room, and keep it safe. He made himself put it with the rest. He was not going to get sentimental about garbage.

He tackled the small living area next, and then task by task he put the lab in order. Stark obviously did not have a regular cleaning service in here, unlike the pristine upper floor of the penthouse. Loki did not touch, or even look directly at any of the Chitauri technology lying around the lab. It made his skin crawl to be in the same room with it. The Chitauri creatures had been controlled by implants in their brains, in their spines. They had been reduced to unthinking drones. When The Other had given Loki the scepter and control of the Chitauri army he had felt only relief. Loki had not wondered or cared what these creatures had been, before they had been shaped into an army for the Mad Titan. Now he did. Did they know what had been done to them, as Loki knew what had been done to him? Or was ignorance preferable?

Loki worked the entire day, his back, knees, wrists getting more and more painful as he bent, knelt, scrubbed and polished. He ignored the discomfort. It was nothing compared to the punishment for failing at these simple tasks. There were no windows in the lab to mark the passing of time by the sun. Instead, Loki glanced at time indicator on the display where his tasks were listed. He needed to know how long he might have to finish. He thought he would have the full day to work, and he had slept until 6am, so he had 18 hours. He was confident that he could do everything in that time.

It was only around 9pm when Loki heard the door to the lab slide open. He scrambled out from under the table where he was scrubbing the floor, thinking that Friday had come to inspect his work. Instead, he saw the figure of his master at the door. Loki cowered. He had not finished! He had worked as fast and as diligently as he could, neither slacking nor cutting corners, but he was only about three quarters through the list. He gripped the scrubbing brush, and tried to get into a proper kneeling position. His pants were soaked with water and cleaning chemicals, and he realized he should have removed the clothes before he had started working. Obviously, these were not clothes to be cleaning in. It was too late now though, his master was approaching and Loki could not hide.

Stark stopped in front of Loki, feet clad in gleaming leather shoes. Loki held his breath.

“Looks good in here.” Stark did not seem at all concerned about the state of Loki’s clothes, or the fact that he had not completed his assigned work.

“You might tell that this place doesn’t get the usual crew around,” Stark said. “Obviously, since I’m dealing with alien tech in here, I can’t risk anyone getting hurt, or seeing something they shouldn’t.”

Loki understood. It didn’t matter if  _ he _ got hurt. He was far more durable than Midgardian servants, and no matter what he saw, he had no one to tell. He had no objection if Stark was going to use him in such a manner. He only hoped that his master would not forget that Loki could not eat or speak if he was not also used as the binding required.

But Stark had not forgotten. “OK you’re done for today, you can go. We have work to do tomorrow. I’ve just taken delivery of something very special." Stark held up the sturdy metal case in his hand. Loki noticed it was attached with a chain to a metal gauntlet that Stark wore around his hand and lower arm. “I'll need you to talk," he continued, "So some to my bedroom first thing. Friday will wake you up.”

Stark turned on his heel and went to the back of the room. A portion of the wall rotated as he walked, revealing a thick-walled secure storage area. Loki lowered his eyes. No doubt Stark would not think anything in there was Loki’s concern. Having been dismissed, Loki put away the cleaning supplies and silently returned to his room. His body was aching, and his hands were raw and itchy from the chemicals. As soon as he was in the room Loki stripped off his clothes and put them in the basin with hot water and soap. He hoped they had not been damaged by his stupidity. If they had, no doubt it would be his flesh that was damaged next.

As effective as the binding punishments were, Hreidmar had enjoyed more hands on discipline as well. Stark would as well, no doubt. Perhaps in the servant quarters he would find the whipping post, and some trusted servant to administer the lash if Stark didn’t want to do it himself. Hreidmar had enjoyed whipping Loki himself. He took more and more thrill from Loki’s pleas and sobs until he threw down the whip and took Loki where he hung helplessly in the chains, his bloody back just added spice for his owner to enjoy.

Loki shuddered. Stark was not like that, he reminded himself. He had been kind. He had fed Loki, allowed him this room, clothes, taken him gently. He had not even punished him for not completing his duties that day.

The clothes cleaned of the chemicals, Loki cleaned himself. The hot water of the shower stung his reddened hands, then relaxed his sore muscles. Loki avoided thinking about tomorrow. He was summoned to Stark’s bed. He did not know what duties he would be expected to perform, only that Stark wished him to talk for his work in the lab tomorrow. Having little desire for him, Stark would make use of him only if he needed to.

After the shower, Loki finally looked in the mirror. His face, that once he had thought of as refined and elegant, was now thin and sallow. His eyes, once sparkling, now were dull and tired. His long hair limp and lifeless. The heavy collar around his neck was a constant reminder of his status. Hreidmar had enjoyed his degradation and his shabby appearance, but Stark had different tastes. If Loki was to retain his interest and perhaps even come to be valued by him, Loki needed to improve his looks. He had no idea how to do that, however, or even what changes Stark would appreciate.

Loki drank two cups of water. He was not hungry yet, after his ample meal of the previous night. He ignored the slight sensation of emptiness as he laid down in the bed. Perhaps, after using him, Stark would allow him to eat before he started his work in the lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your support and comments on my fic! I welcome your comments, suggestions, ideas, and questions, please keep them coming!


	6. Summoned

As promised, Friday woke Loki the next morning, her pleasant voice at odds with her message.

“Loki, please report to the master bedroom.”

Loki opened his eyes and wondered what Friday thought of delivering such an order. Surely though, he was not the first bed-slave Stark had kept, so she may be accustomed to it. Loki's eyes snapped wide open, suddenly horrified. Who was to say that Loki was the only bed-slave that Stark was keeping at this very moment! It made too much terrible sense. No wonder Stark was not interested in him. Why would he be, if he already had a pretty and well-trained slave of his own choosing to serve him in such a manner. Loki could be nothing more than an inconvenience, a nuisance. Loki could not move for the ice that filled his veins, certain that he was right. Stark no doubt kept his preferred slave in his own bedroom, even in his own bed! Casting Loki out to this room and only using him when necessary for his work. Loki wanted nothing more than to pull the blankets over his head and cry. Why had Thor brought him here?

“Loki, please report to the master bedroom. Failure to comply will be reported to Mr Stark.”

Loki jerked upright and tumbled himself out of bed. He rushed to the bathroom to wash and ready himself. What was wrong with him? Wasting time tormenting himself with baseless fantasies when he had orders to follow. Loki turned the shower cold to fully wake himself. A few minutes later he was following Friday’s direction to the double doors of the master bedroom. Loki took a deep breath and knocked.

Expecting to hear an order to enter, Loki was taken aback when the doors opened and Stark himself waved him in, sleep rumpled and yawning. The master bedroom was luxurious in its simplicity. Everything in it was of the best quality, simple and free of unnecessary decoration. The massive bed dominated the room, thick blankets pulled back carelessly. Despite himself, Loki glanced around for evidence of another bed-slave. He could not see a sleeping mat on the floor, or a small chest for the personal items that such a favored slave may have. Either he was missing the signs, or Stark, despite his wealth and status had no one serving his needs. No one except Loki.

Loki startled out of his reverie and dropped to his knees. He had left it far too late to be properly respectful, standing gawping at the room since he entered. Stark chuckled at his clumsiness.

“OK we’re gonna talk about this later today, but first, you know why you’re here. Strip and get on the bed. Knees and elbows.”

Loki scrambled to obey, riding a surge of excited energy from the binding. Loki's heartbeat increased in answer. The familiar lightness of the binding from his obedience made everything so much easier. Stark’s bedsheets were smooth and soft under his fingers, the weave so fine Loki could barely see each thread. He positioned himself as ordered, on all fours, his knees spread and his head resting on his forearms. For the first time, Stark would see him fully nude. Loki hoped the dimmed lights of the room, and his master’s sleepy eyes would soften the image somewhat.

Stark left him waiting in that vulnerable position for what could not have been more than a minute. It felt like so much longer until the bed dipped next to him and his master’s warm hands were on him. One hand went to the back of Loki’s neck and squeezed. Loki was still, compliant like a kitten held by the scruff, heart beating fast. Stark moved his other hand in a long stroke down Loki’s back. He lingered on the faded lash marks there, paler lines in his already pale flesh, another mar on his appearance that Stark would disapprove of. Valuable slaves were not whipped. Obedient slaves were not whipped. Only worthless, disobedient ones endured such punishments. Stark hummed over the marks but did not ask Loki any questions that he could not have answered. No doubt saving that for later.

Stark tossed a few items on the bed next to Loki and moved behind him. Glancing down, Loki saw a bottle of lubricant, a few small square packets and clear plastic gloves. Loki hid his face. He knew what was coming. The position his master had selected for him was demeaning, but at least he could put his face in his arms and he did not have to look at Stark while he used him.

“Deep breath,” Stark told him, as he had done the first night. Loki made a mental note to remember Stark's preference and comply without being told in future. As before, Stark prepared him well enough for comfort. He was swift but thorough, ensuring Loki would not be injured or even feel too much pain. Loki rubbed his fingertips on the soft sheets, feeling the sheen under his fingers, stroking the material under his hands. The room was quiet, Stark maybe not inclined to talk so early in the morning.

Stark nudged Loki’s knees further apart and lined himself up. He groaned as the thick head of his cock breached Loki’s ass. Loki breathed through it, and unlike the first time Stark paused to let him adjust. Loki had no idea what he had done to deserve such consideration. To show that he was not ungrateful, he arched his back and lowered his shoulders to the bed, presenting himself fully and unreservedly for Stark’s pleasure. Stark gripped his hips and pulled him back onto his cock in short, firm increments, until he was fully impaled on his length. Loki breathed. The discomfort was nothing, it was nothing to him. He put it out of his mind. He felt the sheets under his fingers. He was well. He was serving his purpose, the giddy lightness of the binding told him so.

Stark started to fuck Loki in earnest now, holding him still and working his hips to get the sensation he wanted. Loki held his submissive posture with some effort. Stark was pushing him forward with each thrust, and unlike the first time there were no shackles to keep him in place. Loki wondered if Stark would bind him again if he could not stay in the correct position. The sheets under his hands were more pleasant to feel than the metal of the shackles, but it was not up to him. Nothing was up to him. All he could do was obey.

Start finished quickly enough, the chime sounding brightly as he pumped his hips a few final times. Loki had managed to stay on his knees the entire time and not fall down onto his belly. Stark had every right to use him however he pleased, and Loki could scarcely believe his fortune that Stark chose to treat him so kindly. The soreness as Stark pulled out was inconsequential. Stark went to the bathroom and Loki heard the shower start. Knowing himself alone in the bedroom, he climbed off the bed and knelt on the floor. Stark had not dismissed him, and of course he would not stay on the bed once he had served his purpose. He wished he could cover himself. He had not been ordered to dress, but he did not want Stark to see more of his naked body than he had already seen.

Loki glanced around from under his bowed head. He could see no sign of another slave in the room, but there were several doors leading off from this room. Perhaps one of those was a small sleeping area for Stark's more favored slave. Perhaps they were in there right now! Loki tried to stop those thoughts from circling in his mind. There was no evidence at all that Stark had another bed-slave. He did not know if Midgardians even followed the same customs as the Aesir and Nidavellir anyway.

Stark strolled out of the bathroom. He was freshly showered and dressed in casual clothing surprisingly similar to the clothes he had given to Loki. Stark regarded Loki, kneeling naked on his floor.

“Get dressed,” he said, and as Loki did so he continued, “How long is this gonna last?” He waved towards the collar, now glowing blue.

Loki could feel the activated binding in his mind, a lighter, more passive force than the heavy pressure of moments before. He was unused to enduring the full force of the binding for such long periods of time. With Hreidmar, he was used many times each day, either by Hreidmar himself or by those he chose to share Loki with. He could feel the difference with Stark. The binding was still a close presence. It had not lifted as far or as fully as he was accustomed to.

“It will last several hours at least, Master.” Loki replied, cautiously.

Stark huffed, “That’s all? You have a nice ass but I actually have a lot more to do than fuck you every couple of hours.”

Loki hung his head, unsure of the correct or wise response. “The...there are...the binding gives greater rewards if you are more satisfied, Master.”

Stark ran his hands through his hair. ”This is so fucked up,” he said, almost to himself. Loki had no idea how to reply to that, so he remained silent.

“OK we’re gonna be in the lab all day, I have a lot of work with my new acquisition and you’re my assistant. Before we go, anything you wanna say?"

Rarely was Loki invited to speak without being asked a direct question. He should respectfully ask how he could be more useful, more pleasing. Or more practically, he should ask for permission to eat before starting work in the lab. Instead, he blurted out “Do you have another bed-slave?”

Stark stared at him, mouth open. There was a long pause. Loki immediately regretted that he had voiced such a ridiculous, inappropriate question. It was not his to question if he was the lowest ranking slave in his master’s service. There was nothing he could do about it, and to imply that he would start any kind of rivalry could only go badly for him. Stark sighed and made an open handed shrugging gesture that Loki didn’t understand.

“No, Loki. I don’t have any other slaves. Just you.”

Loki was silent, mortified at exposing his insecurity and poor judgement to his master. After a few moments, Stark turned to go to the lab, and Loki followed, two paces behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki's thoughts and worries kinda got away from him in this chapter...


	7. Fruitopia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise mini chapter!

Loki was furious with himself as he walked. He had missed the chance to ask for permission to eat. He had questioned his master about something that was not his concern to even be thinking about. If his master had a dozen bed-slaves and preferred bedding them all to bedding Loki it would still not be his concern. His only concern was following orders. His only concern was being as submissive and pleasing as possible.

Loki was busy berating himself when another voice in his head whispered _at least there are no rivals to eliminate_ and Loki was so shocked that he stumbled as he walked. It had been so long since he had thought that way, he barely remembered that side of himself. He had suppressed it so thoroughly that he had all but forgotten it even existed. The cunning side, the sly side. The strategist, one who saw every angle and took risks, who looked down the road and nudged a pebble into the path of a horse that was yet leagues away.

Stark looked back at Loki when he stumbled but he quickly righted himself. He was sure that his traitorous thoughts were written clear on his face. _Think about this later_ , he told himself, _get through today first._

Stark let them both into the lab, the lamps and screens lit up as he walked, he trailed a path of light behind him like a mage. Loki supposed he was a mage of Midgard, their power was in technology, not in Seidr. Stark open the refrigerator at the back of the lab and pulled out a couple of bottles. He tossed one across to Loki and laughed out loud when he failed to catch it.

“Heads up, Buttercup,” he said, cracking open his own bottle and taking a long drink. Loki, long trained not to try and block or avoid anything thrown in his direction, stooped and picked up the bottle. The colorful label read ‘Fruitopia Acai Energy’ but Loki was no wiser as to its contents.

“You drink it,” Stark told him, already halfway done with his bottle, which Loki saw had the same label. “No time to eat, too much to do.”

Loki twisted off the cap and the smell made his head swim. He had not tasted such delicious fruit in years. First the spiced rice and meat dish, and now this. Stark obviously had no idea, or did not care, what slaves were typically given to eat on other realms. Loki took a sip, the taste was even better than the smell. Before he knew it, he had finished the bottle and his newly awakened taste-buds were joyous in his mouth.

“Thank you, Master,” he said, and his tone gave away far too much. Stark looked at him in silence for a moment, then pointed him to the table that held most of the Chitauri technology.

“OK, now you’re all fueled up. In every sense. We’re going to start here. You know more about the Chitauri than anyone else on this planet. Their tech is all we have to get an idea of how far behind we are, and what we’re up against when the Big Bad comes to party. So. Tell me what you know about each of those.”

Loki walked to the table and looked. Stark was so wrong to be treating these artifacts as mere research items. They were ancient, created by the original Chitauri thousands of years ago, and taken with them to their graves. Their ancestors had dug them up and suffered greatly for their curiosity. Stark would suffer the same way if he went down this path. The Chitauri had all but been exterminated, replaced with an army of unquestioningly obedient cannon fodder.

Loki worked the question over in his mind. Stark was already using Chitauri artifacts in his work. Worse, he had already discovered some method to connect himself to some of them. Loki should not lie or obfuscate, even through Stark had not directly and clearly ordered him to tell the truth. There was a lot of room to maneuver in the command to tell what he knew. There was a lot that he had inferred, or deduced about the Chitauri, but very little he knew for sure. However, Stark was his owner now, and if the Chitauri were coming back, Loki knew who would be right behind them. Thanos would make Loki long for his time with Hreidmar. Thanos would tear him apart and put him back together _wrong._ Thanos would make him beg for death, and then he would laugh and then the _real_ torture would begin.

“Loki! Loki!”

Loki tried to focus but blood was rushing in his ears. The voice calling his name was coming from very far away. The lights seemed to dim and rush away from him, the room spun. Loki grabbed for the edge of the table but it slipped from his fingers and then he was falling into blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going with the "Loki was tortured by Thanos" trope, I know not everyone is into it but it works for this fic, so there we are. 
> 
> As usual, comments and suggestions are welcome!


	8. Fix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, everyone in my house is sick and I don't have as much time to write as I would like - sorry! Tags are updated, please check them!

Loki awoke laying on his back on a hard, flat surface, bright light glaring in his face. He squeezed his eyelids shut and lifted his arm to block the light, only to  be stopped  short with a harsh clank. Coming to his senses, Loki realized he  was shackled  to a table. He turned his head to escape the painful light, and heard the voice of his master.

"Ah you’re awake. Don’t try to move. You got  thoroughly  shocked and I doubt you can stand up. And also you’re tied to the table. So, you know,  just  chill and lie there like a good slave.”

Stark was right, Loki's limbs were trembling and weak. The binding did not much care if he was conscious or not for his punishments. Loki preferred conscious. The horror of  being trapped  in a torture nightmare was far worse than enduring the pain while awake. This time, he had not even been aware of the punishment at all. Small mercies, he supposed. He tried to lie still, as ordered. His head was spinning. He took deep breaths to try and calm himself, and to shake off the memories raised by the Chitauri artifacts.

Stark walked into his view and blocked some of the light burning down from above. “Hey, OK, so, this situation isn’t working for me,” Stark tugged on the heavy collar around Loki’s neck. “I'm a busy guy and I need you to work, not to be taking torture-breaks before you can even start. Also, I’m not super fond of the whole sex-before-talking routine. So I’m gonna fix this fucking thing, and make it answer to me, not play by whatever fucked up rules it’s currently using.”

Loki opened his mouth to protest that the binding was unbreakable, but he could not speak. The binding was smothering him again, a dark weight behind his eyes. He stared up at Stark instead. He had the Chitauri artifact around his temples. Lights projected above his eye cast red and blue shadows over his face.  Close up, Loki could see that it  was connected  to metal studs in Stark’s skin,  possibly  even connected to the bone underneath . Loki shuddered in disgust, hoping that Stark would take it for aftershocks or fear of what was coming.

Stark angled various scanners and machines towards the table. Loki shifted his position and found his wrists and ankles were bound with light metal cuffs. Short chains attached him to the table. He had some room to maneuver, but not much. Loki breathed, trying to calm and center himself. Stark did not desire him, so he would not want to  be bothered  with using him  simply  to have him able to function. If he had been able to, Loki would have told him that he could give someone else permission to take him. He was glad that he was unable to speak. Voicing that humiliating truth was not an option.

Some part of Loki wondered if Stark could break the binding. He was clever, for a Midgardian.  He may have no knowledge of magic in theory or practice, but it was wise not to underestimate these Midgardians . They could be resourceful.

Stark finished his setup. “OK, this is  probably  gonna take about three hours to run, and I won’t lie, it won't be fun for you. But when we're done you won't have to bend over anytime you want to eat, so..." Stark held up his hand and waggled it back and forth in the air. Loki was not familiar with the gesture. He could not respond, but he was feeling rising panic that Stark was going to experiment on the collar. The binding magic was ancient and powerful. Loki himself would not try to break it by brute force if it had trapped someone he cared about. But of course, Stark only cared about him as an assistant, not as a person.  If he could not assist, and worse, if he was a distraction from his master's work, why would Stark not attempt to improve him ?

Stark was still talking, "  Just  to clarify, you will still have to bend over, because that's useful for me, and I'm sure you hate it, so it works on two levels  .  You can consider that your punishment for bringing the Chitauri here and for endangering the entire planet and everyone on it, OK ?"

Loki could only lie on the table.  He tried to control his breathing but his chest was rising and falling  rapidly  and his heartbeat was thumping in his ears . Stark put a warm hand on his arm and squeezed. He looked almost apologetic for a moment, but then turned away and went back to his screens.

“Loki, stand up.”

Loki lifted his head, confused. He was still shackled, and when he tugged at the restraints they did not budge. He looked at Stark, brow furrowed, but Stark  just  looked back, expressionless. The red and blue lights from the Chitauri device cast over Stark's face.  His eye flickered as he absorbed the information fed from the scanners surrounding Loki .

Loki understood when he felt the binding push him. Stark was testing the binding and Loki was the test subject. The push was mild at first, but if Loki did not comply it would not stay that way. Loki yanked on the chains, heart starting to beat faster. Would he  be punished  if he broke the chains?  Maybe  , but he would definitely  be punished  if he did not. Loki focused on his right hand. He twisted in the chains as much as he could and jerked that arm  repeatedly  . The clanging of the chain and cuff against the metal table echoed through the lab, but the chains held. The skin on his wrist split, a line of blood ran down his arm to his elbow. The push turned into a spike of pain, and Loki panicked, thrashing in the restraints as he tried to free himself. What Loki had taken for a light restraint was anything but. The table shuddered but  was bolted  to the floor, the cuffs and chains were light but showed no signs of strain. Loki felt blood on his other wrist. He fought the cuffs. If he could free one hand he would be able to get some leverage on the rest, but he couldn’t. The pain increased. Jolt after jolt of it fried his thoughts and left him a mindless animal, struggling in a trap. He could hear Stark and Friday talking, but none of it was orders for him so he did not  retain  anything. All he cared about was ending the torture.

“Loki, lay on the table.” Finally, finally, Stark cancelled the order. Loki slumped back on the metal table, gasping for breath, tears running down his face. His wrists  were red  and bloody, his ankles  probably  the same. He was shaking, panting for breath, aftershocks trembling through him, fingers twitching. He closed his eyes. It had been five minutes, at most. Stark had said he was going to run tests for three hours.

If Loki could have begged for mercy, he would have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and ideas/suggestions are welcome!


	9. Bloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another rough chapter for Loki, please check the tags.

Sometime during the first hour, Stark pressed a bite guard into Loki's mouth. Loki was absurdly, pathetically grateful for that kindness. His teeth ached from clenching his jaw, and he could taste blood from biting his tongue.

Stark has been running tests continuously. Alternating giving Loki orders he can't obey, with those that he can follow. Each time, Stark makes adjustments though the Chitauri wristband. Loki tried to identify the symbols cast by the device, but they moved too fast and tears and exhaustion blurred his eyes . Stark was moving his hand above the collar, fingers twitching, when the binding shifted, slipping and moving. Loki felt it and Stark obviously detected it too.

“Nice! OK, you'll need to talk for the rest of this.” Stark looked at Loki's wrecked form, chained to the table. He must not present an appealing sight at all. Loki lay limp, head lolled to one side. If Stark was going to have him now, it would be a welcome relief from the pain. Loki was not going to be able to cooperate though, even to get on his hands and knees if ordered. Stark could punish him for that too, if he wanted. Loki only wished Stark would take off the Chitauri artifacts before he came too close, but he did not.

Stark released Loki's ankles from the cuffs and pulled off his pants and underwear. He left Loki's wrists cuffed and his shirt on. Loki didn't care at this point, he didn't care. He tried to find something to focus on, to distract himself with. Stark climbed up on the table and settled himself between Loki's spread legs. The bright lights were dazzling, and Loki could not find anything for his eyes to rest on. Stark still bothered to prepare him, and Loki would have laughed if he could. Stark had seen him crying in pain for close to two hours, but he still worked him open with lubricant. Stark pulled Loki's legs up over his shoulders and pushed inside. The thrusts pushed Loki down the table until the cuffs tightened around his bloody wrists and held him. Loki gripped the edges of the table to ease the pressure on his raw flesh. Stark leaned down, pushing Loki's knees to his chest, working his hips, chasing his pleasure in Loki's body.

Loki could not look anywhere except at the Chitauri artifact around Stark's head. This close, he could see the redness and inflammation around the connections. He could see the telltale darkness of infection in the capillaries around each metal stud. Loki could even see the small screen that project information into Stark's eye. On it, he could see a complex ring of symbols, surrounded by a web of lines and connections, moving and adjusting, tightening and reconnecting. With a jolt, Loki realized that it was a visual representation of the collar and binding. How had Stark managed to decipher the magic in just two hours? Loki stared at it, eyes wide, mesmerized. The constantly lines moved and shifted, and as Stark reached his climax the binding bloomed like a flower, the web opening and parting even as Loki felt it lifting in his mind.

Stark did not linger after using him, he helped him lower his legs back to the table and jumped down himself. He left Loki undressed but he did reattach the ankle cuffs. Loki squirmed as his master's spend dripped out of him into the table, but there was nothing he could do. He just had to lay there, used and soiled and bound. It was fine, Stark had not damaged him in any way that would not heal. Loki clenched his teeth on the bite guard. Stark had not hurt him unnecessary. He needed to make him useful, that's all. He had given him the bite guard. What did his master care if Loki broke his teeth or bit into his tongue? It would not affect his ability to work in the lab.

Stark tidied himself up and loomed over Loki again. Loki was too exhausted even to avert his gaze, and found himself looking up into Stark's deep brown eyes. His right eye reflected red and blue symbols, crawling across his iris, but the left was deep and still.

“How do you feel?”

Loki had no idea how to answer that question. How did he feel? If he complained of his pain, would he be punished for his weakness? If he said he was well, would the experiments continue? He looked up at Stark dumbly, but luckily Stark mistook the reason for his hesitation. He plucked the bite guard out of Loki’s mouth and set it on the table.

“I am … well enough, master.” Loki slowly answered, unsure what else to say.

Stark huffed and rolled his eyes, “Yeah OK, that’s not at all convincing. But that’s my fault, question was too vague. Lets try again. How does the binding feel? Any different?”

Loki felt for the binding. It was floating higher above him that it had the past few days, but was not noticeably different in any other way. He described it to Stark. Stark nodded and focused for a few minutes on the information flowing to his eye from the Chitauri device. His right hand moved rapidly, working on invisible controls. He made gestures with his hand and asked Loki to describe the binding each time. Finally, he twisted his hand firmly and Loki gasped as the binding swooped away from him, only the lightest threads connecting him to the ancient magic. Loki felt almost free, the constant pressure to perform, to serve, was feather-light now. His thoughts unconstrained. It must have showed in his face because Stark smirked down at him.

“You didn’t think I could do it, did you?” Stark made another twisting gesture and the binding was back in place, heavy and stifling. Loki immediately knew that he would do whatever Stark wanted if he would only lift the binding again. It was like glimpsing open fields after spending years underground. Like breathing clean fresh ocean air after living in a moldering cave. Loki craved it.

“Don’t get too excited, we’re not done yet.” Loki’s stomach dropped as Stark put the bite guard back in his mouth and stepped back from the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, just trying to keep my momentum going. Hopefully more to come this week. Thanks for your support and comments, it really does fuel my writing to know that people are reading and enjoying my work!


	10. Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Tuhkasielu for the idea about Tony giving Loki something and him reading way too much into it! I stole your idea!

When Stark finished testing, he restored the binding. He let it settle back down over Loki, lower and lower until it was almost deactivated. At this level, it would deactivate in less than an hour if Loki was not used in that time.

Stark unsnapped the cuffs and ordered Loki off the table. Loki slid himself to the edge and supported his weight on his arms until he was sure he could hold himself up. The repeated tests had left his arms and legs shaky and weak. Loki was not sure he would be able to stand if his master wanted him to continue working now.

Stark watched Loki struggle to stand, his face expressionless. Loki was still only wearing the shirt that Stark had left on him hours earlier. He was too exhausted and anxious to care about preserving what little scrap of dignity he may have had left. Stark had already seen him cry, had already had him on his back and on his knees and on his belly. There was nothing left for him to hide.

Stark unclipped the Chitauri devices from his body and set them on the table. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and over his tired, drawn face. He looked back at Loki, as if he had not noticed until that moment that he could not stand upright.

“Shit.” Stark took a step toward him, hand raised. Loki tried not to flinch. Stark stopped where he was. “Shit." He rubbed his face again, fingers avoiding the sore areas where the metal connectors were embedded. "OK, just go back upstairs and sleep it off. We can start fresh tomorrow.”

Loki was relieved to be dismissed, despite his master's disappointment that he was in no condition to work. He managed to pick up his clothes from where Stark had dropped them on the floor and turned to go.

“You can keep this.” Stark handed Loki the bite guard, the marks of his teeth scored into it. Loki took it, careful not to touch his master's hand with his fingers. He was unsure why he was allowed to keep it. Was his master expecting him to need it again soon? Or perhaps he didn’t want it now that Loki had used it. Either way, Loki knew well enough that slaves were not given gifts unless they had performed well. Stark could have tossed the bite guard into the garbage if he didn’t want it anymore, rather than give it to his slave. Loki bowed his head and thanked Stark before he left the lab. He did not pause to dress outside the door this time. He was unsure if he could manage to put on his pants without falling on his face on the hard floor. He leaned on the wall of the elevator on the way back up to the penthouse, then staggered back to his room. He did not shower, despite his bloody, sweaty and well-used state. He dropped his clothes on the floor and fell on the bed. He lay there, limbs trembling and eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

Stark had broken the binding.

With a few hours of focused attention, Stark had understood and manipulated the ancient magic of the binding spell. He had not even destroyed it. He had turned it to his own ends, lifting and replacing it as he wished, bending it to his whims until he had remade it to his satisfaction. Loki could not tell what he had done, but he knew it was different now. He did not know the rules that Stark had put in place, although he would certainly find out when he broke any of them. Loki knew enough to be afraid of that kind of power wielded by one man. The Nidavellir would remove the rare and valuable thrall-collars either with a team of experienced, expensive mages, or by killing the slave, which would trigger the collar to unlock. Stark had taken control of the spell using his own mind. Either Stark had studied the magic of Yggdrasil for years, or...or...Loki did not know what. Had he simply reached into the binding and reshaped it with the force of his will?

Loki knew there was a connection to Stark's implants. Whatever he had done with the Chitauri artifacts, he had enhanced himself more than Loki had imagined. Maybe more than even Stark himself imagined. He had shown no sign that he was aware of the enormity of the feat that he had accomplished, and Loki had not been invited to express his opinion about it.

Cautiously, Loki explored the binding. It was heavy on his mind. Not quite pushing him, but Loki could feel it, a churn in his belly that never let him rest, always ready to jump in case his master had need of him. Loki lay still for some time, eventually falling in to meditation, calming and centering himself. He was not injured, he had not been disobedient, he had tried to follow every order. Stark had given him the bite guard to keep, he must have done something to please him. Slaves didn’t own anything. The clothes that Loki wore belonged to Stark, the room he used, the bed he slept in, the food he ate, all of it belonged to his master. But Stark had given the bite guard to him. Perhaps as a reminder that he could be kind, if Loki was deserving? Loki leaned down and picked the bite guard up from the floor. He rolled off the bed and washed and dried it in the bathroom, then put it in the closet, on it’s own shelf.

Loki had recovered enough to wash himself, and after he had showered he dressed in clean underwear and fell back onto the bed. His eyes were almost closed when he sat up again, confused. He had been in his room for well over an hour, thinking, meditating, washing. The binding had not deactivated. Loki went to the bathroom mirror. The gems were still glowing dull blue, as they had been after his shower. Loki studied the collar. Explored the binding. He could still feel it, hovering over him like a dark cloud. But it had not fallen. Stark had put the binding at this level hours ago, and it was still there.

Loki could not put a name to what he was feeling. Stark had him under his control, and Loki did not even know the rules anymore. Stark had not been able to use him for the purpose he wanted, so he had  _ improved _ him. Stark had  _ modified _ him. Stark did not want to work with a broken tool, so he had fixed it. Why should he not? Loki was his now, his to use as he wished. Was it not better to be improved, than to be cast aside? Loki had already experienced that. Odin had had no more use for him and so he had disposed of him. Sold him. At least Stark saw something of value in him, something that he could use. He should be grateful for that. He  _ was _ grateful. That must be what he was feeling, that nameless emotion that crawled over his skin. He was grateful for everything that his master had done for him.

Relieved that he had understood, Loki went back to bed. He had been told to sleep, and so he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're liking this, please comment (or kudos if you're shy) and tell me what you like, what you want to see more of, I love to work in your ideas, and comments give me life!


	11. Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so Noirfos wanted to see some more about how Loki may change his appearance, I included a bit but I think I will bring that back more in the future as well, for some reason I love Loki fretting about his looks :)

Loki looked at his reflection in the mirror. Pale skin, dark hair damp and tangled around his face, lips bitten sore, dark bruises under his dull eyes. Loki combed his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth it down. It was longer than it had even been. Hreidmar had liked it, liked to hold onto it. Loki diverted his thoughts from that direction. Stark had said that he was not going to put anything in his mouth. He did not have to worry about that. Although, Stark had told him that he would still expect the use of his body, despite his alterations to the binding. That was...unexpected. Stark did not seem attracted to Loki or to particularly enjoy using him. He had told Loki to consider it a punishment for his misdeeds, although he must know that Loki had endured far greater punishments for far lesser crimes. Perhaps he wished to still enjoy his mastery of Loki _.  _ What better way to make Loki’s status crystal clear than to make him submit in such a manner?

Ultimately, it was not important why. Stark was not cruel and it was his right to use him as he wished. It would benefit Loki to serve in more than one way, to be useful, to be valuable. He could assist Stark in his work and also serve in his bedchamber.

Loki had nothing to help him improve his appearance, no oil for his hair, no blade to trim his nails, nothing. He did what he could with soap and water, but Stark would not be impressed. On impulse, he tied his hair back in a braid. It was a little messy as he had no comb to smooth it down. Frigga had taught Loki to braid his hair, and Loki had done the same for Thor. If he had time, and a comb, he could create more decorative styles, that perhaps Stark would like.

“Loki, your presence is required in the living room.”

The lock on the door clicked open. Loki, already dressed and as attractive as he was going to get, walked out to face the day.

“Brother!” Loki was enveloped in a bear hug before he could register that anyone else was even in the room. The warm smell of summer, ozone, golden sunlight. For just a moment, Loki allowed himself to enjoy it, a touch not meant to hurt, someone who could perhaps care for him, some memory of family. After one deep breath Loki pushed it all down. His master was here, he could not allow him to think Loki had any desire other than to serve him. Loki stepped back and went to his knees. Both knees, head bowed. Not one knee, with head up, as a prince would to a king. Thor was a king but Loki was no prince. He knew his place, now.

“Loki…” Thor sounded hurt, but he must understand why. Loki could afford no missteps.

“Yeah, he does that a lot.” The voice of his master. “It's the binding, better to just let him do what he's gotta do. If you start arguing about it, it goes downhill fast."

“Aye…” Thor said, still uncertain, “My friend, may I have a moment with my brother?”

“Sure thing. I'll be in the lab. Take as long as you want.”

With that, Stark sauntered to the elevator and left. Loki did not look up. Whatever his relationship with Thor had been, now he was a slave and Thor was a king. They were not equals. They never were and they never would be.

“Loki, will you stand?” Thor's plaintive tone tried Loki’s resolve. It was an order though, so Loki stood. Thor’s familiar firm grip came to rest on his neck, tilting his head so that Thor could look in his eyes.

“Brother,” he said again, “You look well. Better. You look better. Are you well?”

Loki was glad he had made an effort to look well that morning. He did not want Thor to think Stark was mistreating him. Loki had no doubt he looked better than when Thor had found him. He had been naked and bound over an anvil in Hreidmar’s forge, used by two of his master’s favorites. Loki shuddered. They were dead now. He did look better, he  _ was _ better. He nodded, then realized he could speak. The binding was still active, even though he had slept undisturbed the entire night.

“I am well…” he trailed off, unsure how to address Thor. He could not use his name, or call him ‘brother’ as he used to. “I am well, Your Majesty.” The words were awkward on his tongue, and Thor immediately objected.

“Brother, you do not have to call me that.”

He did, of course. He was the lowest class of person, now. Not even a person, he was property. “What would you prefer, Your Majesty?”

“Call me by my name of course, or call me ‘brother’, as you used to.”

“If you wish... Thor.” Loki winced as the words left his mouth. The binding  _ pushed  _ him hard and Loki knew it would turn into a punishment if he did not correct himself. “Your Majesty!" he said. Then, knowing he had disobeyed Thor, the binding  _ pushed _ him again. Loki gasped, heart-rate increasing as he looked for a way out. “Please allow me to call you by your title, Your Majesty!” He got it out before the pain hit, and breathed in relief when Thor nodded, eyebrows furrowed.

Thor squeezed Loki's shoulder, his touch familiar, comforting. “Brother...I do not have much time. I have much to attend to at...in Asgard. I came to ensure you are not ill treated here. Tony Stark, he is treating you well?”

Loki was already nodding. “Yes, Your Majesty. My master treats me very well, he is very kind.”

Thor narrowed his eyes at Loki’s uncharacteristically positive response. “Stark!” he bellowed at the ceiling, making Loki jump.

There was a short pause, then, “What’s up, big guy?” Stark’s voice floated from the ceiling, as Friday’s voice usually did.

“Stark! Give my brother permission to speak freely." Thor made his demands in his usual brash manner and Loki squirmed. He was unsure what Thor was doing and how much trouble he would be in with his master when Thor left.

“Er...OK. Loki, you can tell Thor whatever you want.” Stark did not sound overly upset. Later, no doubt Loki would find out how he really felt at being given orders in his own home.

Thor nodded, then led Loki out to the balcony. The day was bright and cold, the sun on Loki's face made him squint. How long since he had been outside? It must be months. But he was not here to enjoy the air, Thor was speaking to him. “Loki, tell me the truth. Is Stark treating you well?”

Loki did not hesitate, “Yes, Your Majesty. He is treating me well. He has given me my own room, he wants me to help with his work, he has given me food every day, he is not...he is not like Hreidmar.”

Thor nodded slowly, still unsure. “He has not hurt you?”

“No! He has not.” Loki ignored the hours of pain Stark had put him through to test the binding. That was for Loki's own benefit, and he was grateful for it.

Stark had ordered Loki to tell Thor  _ whatever he wanted _ , which was very different to  _ the truth. _ Loki had no wish to cause trouble for his master. He did not want Thor to take him away from this place, to give him to someone else, to pass him off to another master.

Thor nodded, tension leaving his face. “That is well, brother. I am glad to have found a safe place for you. You must aid Stark’s work, if you can. He knows of the approaching threat. He is one of the few who will be able to defend Midgard when the Mad Titan arrives. I must do the same for Asgard, and prepare to defend the realms as well.”

There was a pause, Thor looked down. “I...I am sorry it took me so long to find you, Loki. When father...when father died…I should have come for you. He told me your punishment was justice, and I believed him. But that was not justice that I saw.”

Loki swallowed. He had lost count of the times he had dreamed his golden brother may come to save him. Over the years he had forced himself to stop believing it. Hope was just another form of torture.

Thor continued, “This is fitting. To serve Stark and defend the realm you attacked. He is a good man, and he needs assistance. Loki, you are my brother, and I love you, but I must leave you here. I cannot take you to Asgard. The Nidavellir have made many demands for your return, and they are not without allies even on Asgard. I will not risk some scheming Lord conspire with them to bring you back.”

Loki heard the unspoken words. Thor believed Loki deserved this punishment, to serve as a slave and right his crimes against this realm. In truth, Loki had no wish to return to Asgard. Loki had no magic and could not defend himself from any person who wished to abuse or humiliate him. The King could not watch over him all the time. Here, in the tower, Loki was safe. Stark had not had any other guests and Loki had seen no servants. Even Friday never came to the penthouse or the lab. Loki was safer in Stark's tower than he would be in the palace.

Thor squeezed his shoulder one more time. “I will take my leave, brother. Please give my regards to Stark.” Thor strode out to the end of the gantry and raised his hand, calling for the bifrost. Loki stood out on the balcony and watched him taken up.

When the rainbow glow faded, Loki did not linger in the sunlight. He went directly to the elevator and down to the lab. If it was his role to serve Stark, and he would do it as well as he could. Even his brother agreed, Loki was in his rightful place now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting full on Stockholm Syndrome now, shall we explore this a bit or move on? I love getting suggestions and I copy them all to my google doc and try and work them in! Love you guys!


	12. Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rough one. Tags are updated.

Stark was already working when Loki arrived at the lab. The metal case that contained his 'new acquisition’ was open on a table, and Stark was scrutinizing the contents using the Chitauri headband. He shut the case when Loki opened the door. Loki swallowed hard and forced himself to step into the room. When he saw he had his master’s attention, he went to his knees and said, “King Thor commanded me to give you his regards, Master. He has returned to Asgard.”

“Uh huh.” Stark said, unconcerned about Thor's quick departure. He walked over to the table piled with Chitauri artifacts and gestured Loki to attend him. “Get over here. We’re going to pick up where we left off.” Loki had no choice but to approach the table and stand facing him. Loki did not touch anything, did not even touch the table the items were resting on. He would not, until he was ordered to do so. Loki took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He would do as he was ordered. This was his purpose now, to aid Stark in the defense of Midgard.

“Tell me what you know about these artifacts. Why did you freak out yesterday?”

Loki looked down at his hands, twisting them together. Yesterday seemed so long ago. Before his master had  _ improved _ him. Before his brother had confirmed that Loki was to continue serving his punishment in this place. Not that he had doubted it, he quickly reminded himself. Why would he? Thor had not approved of the manner that his previous owner had used him, but with Stark, he was being put to good purpose. So he would stay.

Stark raised his eyebrows at Loki who realized he had taken too long to respond. He needed to focus. His master held the binding in the palm of his hand, he could punish Loki whenever he wished.

“I do not know so much about these, Master. I only know what I saw of the Chitauri when...when I bought them to Midgard.” Loki could not truly claim to have been the commander of the Chitauri army. The implants controlled them, and Thanos controlled Loki. All of them puppets on his strings. Loki had willingly taken the opportunity to get far away from that place, and he was filled with fear that his reckoning was coming closer every day.

“Well, tell me that then,” Stark said, shortly, impatient with Loki's lack of cooperation.

“Yes, Master.” Loki told Stark what he knew. That the Chitauri had been twisted and molded into what they were, that the implants they used controlled them and linked them together as one. He did not look at Stark as he spoke, afraid of his reaction, afraid that he would not believe him.

When he ran out to things to say, he stood in silence, looking down at his shaking hands.

“So,” Stark eventually spoke, “What you’re telling me, is that this tech is a means of control?”

Loki nodded. “Yes Master,” he whispered.

“Why then, can I use it to access the powers of other realms? To see energy that no earth technology can detect? To manipulate magic?”

Loki shook his head, “I don’t know, Master. I don't know how it works. I just know how...how Thanos used it. What he did to the Chitauri, how he used them.”

Stark walked around the table, and Loki dared to glance up at him. His face was cold, unnaturally lit on one side and dark on the other. Loki desperately wished to back away, but there was nowhere for him to go.

“Are you telling me the truth, Loki?” Stark’s voice was quiet, but all the more menacing for it. He had Loki at his mercy and he knew it.

“Yes! Yes! Master I swear to you, I swear I am telling you the truth!”

“Like you told Thor the truth, when he asked if I hurt you?”

Loki’s blood ran cold. Stark knew what he had said to Thor. Loki’s knees folded under him and he went to the floor. He had lied to Thor. He had lied to his Master’s ally. He should have told him the truth. So what if Stark had hurt him? He could have explained to Thor why he had done it, surely his brother would have approved. Stark was a hero of Midgard, a defender of the realm, and Loki was nothing.

“You’re a liar Loki. Why should I believe you about this tech? You just lied to your own brother. It’s your nature to lie. You'll say anything to help yourself." Loki knew it was all true. He had lied to Thor to ensure he could stay with Stark, to benefit himself. How could he expect Stark to trust anything he said, when he had proved himself untrustworthy?

"You know what happens to slaves who lie, Loki?"

Loki knew. He nodded. Stark shoved him backwards with his foot. "Tell me." he ordered.

Loki sprawled on the floor where he had fallen. He kept his eyes down, frozen in fear. His master was angry and it was his fault. The only thing to do was submit to his punishment, but he could not get the words out of his mouth.

"Tell me!" Stark shoved him again, standing over him, looming darkly, the Chitauri headband lighting half his face an unearthly red.

"They get punished! Slaves who lie get punished!" Loki finally managed to gabble the answer, but it did not save him.

Stark grabbed Loki's braided hair and pulled him across the lab on his knees. Stark was taking him to the bench, and Loki remembered what he had said about punishment. That he could consider his master using his body to be his punishment. Stark threw him to the ground beside the bench. He was shockingly strong for a Midgardian, Loki landed on his hands and knees and stayed there, as still as he could. He could endure this, he deserved the correction, it would hurt and then it would be over.

“Strip.” Stark ordered and Loki obeyed, pulled off his clothes without getting up off the floor. When he was naked, Stark took his arm and shoved him over the bench, as he had been before, legs either side of it, belly down. The cuffs clicked into place around his wrists and Loki was trapped. His heart was pounding in his head, rushing in his ears. He knew what was coming. Stark would not make it easy this time, with patience and lubricant and gentle touches. There was nothing Loki could do, he would endure it and beg for forgiveness and do better in the future. He squeezed his eyes shut. Tried to calm his breathing and relax his tensed muscles. If he resisted it would only hurt more.

A hand in his hair, pulling his head back. “Why are you being punished?” Stark demanded.

Loki replied at once, “Because I lied! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I lied to Thor and I deserve punishment!”

“You’re a liar, Loki, and you need to change that. This will help you remember.”

Stark shoved Loki’s head back down to the cold metal of the bench. Loki shuddered and tried to hold still. Stark straddled the bench and pressed up against him. Thumbs spread Loki's buttocks and exposed his hole. Loki jumped and the shackles clanged against the bolt when Stark rubbed cold gel roughly between his cheeks. Loki took another breath. Stark was using lubricant, already he was showing Loki mercy that he did not deserve. Loki was lucky to have such a kind, merciful, master. Loki breathed. Breathed. He was spread again and before Loki could take another breath Stark split him open on his cock. Loki went limp on the bench. He was helpless and it was better to submit. Loki did not cry out at the burning pain. He deserved this, this would help him remember not to lie. Stark did not stop until he was pressed up against Loki's ass, hands digging bruises into his hips. Loki's belly cramped, his insides were forcefully rearranged to make room for his master's cock. Stark did not wait. He started pumping his hips, grinding his cock as deep as he could, making sure Loki would remember. He would. He would remember. He would not lie again.

Stark did not draw it out. Only a few minutes later his hips stuttered and he groaned, milking the last of his orgasm from Loki's body. He leaned on Loki's shoulders, holding him down on the bench as he recovered his composure. Loki barely breathed. He could only hope that he was done, and Stark was satisfied that he had been punished.

"Why did I punish you?"

"Because I lied, Master."

"Did you deserve it?"

Loki nodded. "Yes, Master." Of course he did. Of course he deserved it. He had been wrong to lie to Thor and his master was right to correct his behavior. He would not make the same mistake again. Stark did not hurt him for his own enjoyment, not like Hreidmar had done. Stark he did it so that Loki would benefit, so that he would learn.

Stark released the cuffs and Loki tumbled himself off the bench and onto the floor. He pressed his hands and forehead to the ground.

“Thank you, Master.” He desperately wanted Stark to know he was grateful that he took the time to correct him. To improve him. To make him more useful.

Stark reached down and tugged on Loki's braid. “I like this,” he said, obviously finished with talking about Loki's misdeed and punishment. Loki glowed. He had done something right, he had pleased his master! He vowed immediately to ask Friday for help to do more, to find out what his master liked and ensure he was as pleasing as possible.

Stark was already back at his worktable, he glanced up at Loki, still sprawled naked on the floor. “Get dressed,” he ordered, “then we’ll start again.”

Loki dressed. He might wish for a chance to clean himself, but he would not waste his master’s time when he wanted him to work. He could shower when Stark was done with him. Perhaps he might be allowed to eat as well. He had not had any food since the fruit drink yesterday morning, and his empty stomach was complaining. He did not speak of it. His master would decide when he ate, when he cleaned himself, when he rested.

For now, he would work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too much? What do you think?


	13. Geneva

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this fic, I love and appreciate all your comments!

 

“Loki, your presence is required in the living room.”

Loki snapped awake and rolled out of bed. It was dark, it could be night or early morning. Loki paused a moment to gather his thoughts and run his fingers through his messy hair. The door clicked open and light from the hallway flooded in. Squinting, Loki pulled on his pants and shirt and hurried to the living room.

Stark was sitting hunched over on the white couch, a glass of spirits in his hand and a bottle on the table. Loki approached. He breathed a little easier when he did not see the Chitauri artifacts. Perhaps his master wanted him to pour his drinks. Or massage his feet. Or provide an outlet for his...appetites.

Loki had been allowed to go back to his room after working all day in the lab. Stark had set him to sorting the artifacts into types and identifying which were usable. It took him all day as he had to clean and categorize dozens of them. After his punishment, Stark had ignored him. He had focused on his own work and rarely looked in Loki’s direction. Loki had been allowed to eat at midday, some hot soup with vegetables, which was delicious, although not as filling as he might have wished.

Loki went to his knees on the rug in front of the couch. It seemed that Stark did not even notice him, so deep was his focus on his glass.

After a few minutes passed, Friday spoke, her voice as musical and pleasant as ever. “Loki is present, Mr Stark.”

Stark looked up. Loki glimpsed red rimmed eyes and sore skin around the metal studs, before he lowered his gaze to his master's feet.

“Loki.” He spoke slowly, deliberately. Loki wondered how much he had already had to drink.

“Yes, Master.” Loki gripped his hands behind his back, waiting.

Stark leaned back on the couch, slumped, cradling his glass. He looked at Loki, scanning him up and down. Loki straightened up and tried to look his best. Stark's demeanor was worrying. He was drunk, or nearly drunk, and Loki had not had good experiences with drunken men.

“Are you OK?” Loki was so surprised by the question that he looked up at Stark directly. Stark was watching him with those deep brown eyes. He was chewing his lip, worried.

Perhaps he was concerned that he had damaged Loki during his punishment and Loki would not be able to serve him again. Loki sought to reassure him, “I am well, Master,” he said. It was true. He was sore, and if Stark wanted him again it would hurt, but it was not a concern. Loki would not complain or resist, or even make it known unless Stark wanted him to.

There another long silence. Stark emptied his glass and Loki silently offered to refill it. He was careful to pour without spilling and without getting up off his knees. He replaced the bottle and reclaimed his spot a few paces away, cautiously out of range of his master’s feet. Stark was watching him strangely, intently. Loki did not know what he had done wrong. He had been obedient and done exactly what he had been ordered to do. Loki squirmed under his gaze.

“Loki, what happened in the lab today?”

Loki stopped breathing. He glanced up. Stark was staring at him, his brow furrowed, his fingers gently rubbing around the metal implants where the skin was puffy and irritated. Loki didn’t know what to say. Did Stark not remember? The silence went on too long.

“That bad huh?” Stark finished his drink and held out his glass for another refill. Loki decided silence was the wisest path. If stark did not remember what he had done, it would not go well for Loki to remind him. He may think that Loki had not been sufficiently punished for lying. Maybe he had forgotten that Loki had lied at all! It could certainly do no good to remind him in that case.

Stark moaned and put the cool glass to his head, rolling it back and forth. “What happened?” He muttered to himself. “Why was recording disabled? Why can’t FRIDAY tell me?”

Friday spoke up, “Records are locked with an override code, Mr Stark.”

“I’m the override!” Stark said, frustrated. It was clearly not the first time he had the same discussion with her. Loki wondered how Friday could not release the records to her employer when he told her too.

“Override unauthorized, Mr Stark.”

“Stupid machine!” Stark said, and Loki flushed with embarrassment as he realized Friday was one of Stark’s computers. AI’s as he called them. That made a lot more sense, and made Loki's failure to realize it even more humiliating.

“You were in the lab with me today, weren’t you?”

Loki could not avoid answering that. “Yes, Master.”

“Tell me everything that happened.”

Loki cringed. Should he tell Stark that he had punished him for lying? If Stark had forgotten, his reputation may not be so sullied as he feared. But what if he remembered later? Then Loki would be punished again, and no doubt suffer a harsher penalty for lying directly to Stark himself.

“Loki…” Stark reached out his hand to Loki. Loki realized he was just going to touch his shoulder at the same moment he violently flinched away and fell to the side.

“Oh god!” Stark fell back on the couch, hands over his face. “What did I do?”

Loki struggled up from the floor, back on his knees. His hands were shaking, he could not get his breath. If he told Stark, he had no idea what his reaction would be. Would he be angry that Loki had not told him immediately? Perhaps he would be relieved that all he had done was punish Loki for his misdeed. Loki could wish it would be that simple but he feared it would not.

Friday saved him from having to decide. “Rule 93 of the Geneva convention forbids sexual abuse of prisoners of war.” Her calm tone was at odds with the tension of the room.

“I know!” Stark yelled, “I know that, Friday! That’s why I fixed it! Why do you keep saying that? What happened today in the lab?

“Records are locked with an override code, Mr Stark.”

“I KNOW…” Stark broke off. Scrubbed his hands over his face and put his head in his hands.

“Loki. Tell me what happened in the lab today. That’s an order.”

Loki had no choice but to obey. He kept his tone as neutral as he could. “You asked me about the Chitauri artifacts. I told you what I know about them. You punished me for lying to Thor. You told me to categorize the artifacts on the table. You let me eat hot soup. You sent me back to my room.”

Stark did not move, hunched forward, hands over his face. “What was your punishment?” His voice was quiet, sad, as though he already knew the answer.

“You...you did not…” Loki was terrified of what would happen if he told Stark what he had happened. Loki knew he had earned his punishment and Stark had done nothing wrong. Whatever Friday had said about prisoners of war did not apply to him. He was a slave. His master owned him and his body and there was nothing he could not do to him. Loki put his shaking hands on the floor and lowered his head until his face was on the rug. The soft fur felt strange on his skin, alien to the harshness of the moment.

“Tell me,” Stark whispered.

Loki did not even have words to describe what Stark had done. It was just pain and dominance and the lesson he needed to learn.

Stark slid off the couch to kneel next to Loki on the rug. “Did I rape you?” Stark asked, his voice catching on the word. Loki quickly shook his head, eyes screwed shut. No. It was not that. That was a crime and his master could not commit crimes against his slave.

Friday interrupted again. “Rule 93 of the Geneva convention forbids sexual abuse of prisoners of war.”

“Would you stop…!” Stark cut himself off. “Friday, I know you’re trying. But I get it.”

Stark sat on the rug for a few minutes, Loki crouched next to him, hiding his face. Loki did not know what to do. He wanted nothing more than to not be here, being forced to answer these questions. But he was required to be here and he could not leave.

“You don’t have to say it.” Stark sounded numb. “Fuck it, I need another drink.” Stark drank from the bottle and offered it to Loki. Loki did not want to drink it, but his master had given it to him and he was already causing so much trouble that he should not cause any more. He swallowed a mouthful. It burned his throat and he coughed. The liquor churned in his empty belly.

Stark took back the bottle and drank from it again. He held his head in his hands and groaned, “I need to get rid of this headache. I’m going to bed.” Stark abruptly stood and left the room, taking the bottle with him. Loki was left on the carpet. Was he allowed to return to his bed, or did he have to stay here? Was Stark even going to remember this conversation in the morning? Better that he did not, Loki thought. Better not recall it and think to punish Loki for being uncooperative, and for seeing his master’s inebriated state. Loki quickly washed and dried off the glass then crept back to his room. He felt sick from the liquor and from stress. He wanted nothing more than to wake up in his bed and think the whole incident was nothing but a bizarre dream. If he was lucky, Stark would think the same.


	14. Penthouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurt/Comfort if you squint?

Loki crept about the penthouse, a nervous ghost. He washed clothes, washed dishes, cleaned, and polished. He had not seen Stark for days. The door to Loki's room did not unlock until hours after sunrise and Stark was never present. Sometimes, a warm half-drunk coffee cup would show that he had been there. FRIDAY directed Loki’s activities. She gave him enough tasks to keep him occupied but did not work him overly hard, and she allowed him breaks for meals. She did not volunteer any information about Stark’s whereabouts and Loki did not ask. He did what she told him to do, ate what she told him he could eat, and returned to his room when she said he was done for the day. Loki felt like one of Stark’s machines. He was functioning as Stark desired and so there was no need to pay attention to him.

He was not asked to go to the lab. He was not summoned to Stark’s bedchamber. The binding did not change. It remained activated, hovering over his mind like a dark bird. It was always present, but it never deactivated. As the days went on, Loki lost the frantic sense that he needed to be used to keep the binding active, and it faded into the background of his thoughts.

After the third day, Loki knew he was on borrowed time. Who would keep an expensive slave simply to do light housework? Stark did not want him in his bed, he did not want him in his lab. No doubt he was finding a discreet buyer for him, and then Loki would be gone. Loki did everything Friday told him to do. He was perfect, he followed every instruction and completed every task, but he knew it was not enough. The food he ate and the room he used was worth more than the value of the work he did. Anyone could clean. Most of the time, Loki was cleaning spaces that had not been used since he had last cleaned them. The penthouse was spacious but Stark seemed to be never there, and Loki himself never made any kind of mess that would require cleaning. Stark could have a servant come for a few hours every day and it would cost him far less than Loki did.

Loki stopped using hot water. It was no hardship, he was used to cold water and it encouraged him to wash quickly and not use more water than he needed. He turned off all the penthouse lights, wherever he went. He turned off the lights in his room and let the glow of the city below him light his room. He stopped eating meat, and when Friday told him what he could eat he did not take the full portion. He only drank water from the faucet. He did everything he could to reduce the expenses his master must be incurring from having Loki in his home.

If he could work well enough, and cost little enough, Stark may decide to keep him.

After around ten days, Loki was lightheaded all day. He was careful to stand up slowly and he stopped wearing socks to avoid slipping on the marble floor. The floor was cold on his bare feet but it was no matter. A few days ago he had decided not to eat breakfast anymore. He would drink water and begin his work. If he was careful, he could still work as well as ever. He knew the rhythm of the work now. Wash clothes and towels, polish the windows, wipe, polish and dust all the furniture, put the laundry in the dryer, sweep and wash the floors, clean the bathrooms, clean the kitchen, fold the clothes and towels, clean the laundry room, drink some more water, return to his room. It was easy. He went through the motions like one of Stark's machines, silent and obedient. It mattered not that his hands trembled all the time, his eyes took time to focus, his head was constantly stuffed with wool, his empty belly ached all the time. His master would be pleased that he was costing him so little, and he was working so hard every day. He would keep him. Surely he would.

Perhaps, if Loki did very well, his master would allow him to serve him again. In his bedchamber, if he was not wanted in the lab. Loki did not understand why, but the last time he was in the lab, it had gone very badly and Stark no longer wanted to see him. It was his own fault, and he would not let it happen again. Loki was better now, he would never tell another lie, he would never need to be punished the way he had before. He had learned his lesson and all he wanted was another chance.

Loki was unloading the dryer when he stood up too quickly. The room spun around him. He reached out to hold the machine, but it was too far. He was falling, dizzy and trying desperately not to drop any towels on the floor and have to wash them again. He had scrubbed that floor the day before, but he had been walking on it with his bare feet and his master should not have to use a towel that had been on the floor where his slave had walked. Loki’s thoughts moved like glue, slow motion as he fell backwards, then a sharp crack as his head hit the floor and nothing but darkness.

….

Soft. Why was the floor soft? And warm. Even his feet were warm. There was the smell of hot food, and Loki had not heated his food for days now. This must be a dream. A memory. Loki relaxed back into the memory, his mouth watering at the delicious smell. Silky smooth sheets soft under his fingers, warm and cozy and...

Loki’s eyes opened. He was in his master’s bed!

Loki’s heart started to pound. His vision blurred and cleared again, his hands pulled at the clothes he was wearing under the covers. Why was he dressed? If he had been ordered to attend Stark’s bedchamber he knew very well that he should be naked and ready for use. He tugged at his shirt but it had no buttons and he could not make his arms move in the correct way to remove it.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Stark walked into the room, staying near the far wall and looking over at Loki. “Do you remember what happened?”

Loki shook his head. Somehow he had got into his master’s bed fully-clothed and fallen asleep? That seemed unlikely, but why else would he be here? Why would Stark have let him sleep, when he could have dragged him out of the bed by his hair and sent him to the whipping post for punishment? Although, Loki remembered how Stark preferred to punish him. Perhaps that was why he was still in the bed.

“OK, don’t freak out. You fainted, that’s all. I found you passed out in the laundry room. Friday told me you haven’t been eating. You wanna talk about that?”

Loki was frozen. He wanted to kneel, but he had not been ordered out of the bed and that meant his master wanted him there, for when he would punish him.

Stark sighed and came closer. There were dark circles under his eyes, the soreness from the metal studs was spreading over one side of his face. Loki was staring and he couldn’t even turn his head to stop himself.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re going to eat this,” Stark pointed to a large mug of hot soup on the bedside table, “then you’re gonna come out to the penthouse and we’re gonna talk. OK?”

What could Loki do, but nod and whisper, “Yes, Master”? He had fainted and Friday had called his master away from his important work to punish him for slacking off. Every plan Loki had had to be useful and do good work and not cost anything to keep was ruined.

He carefully picked up the soup, and began to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have to reeaaaalllly squint :)


	15. Soup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohboy wanted some spanking/whipping so, here it is. Tags are updated.

Loki ate the soup as fast he could. It was unacceptable to make his master wait for him, but he had been told to eat the soup before leaving the room, and so he did. Eating the rich, hot soup on his empty stomach was not easy, but he managed to empty the cup. His belly was churning uncomfortably but he hid it well and hurried out to the penthouse.

Stark was lounging on his white couch, typing on one of his ubiquitous screens, the glow of the setting sun behind him. Loki knelt on the rug before him, the same position as the last time he had seen his master.

“Feel better?”

“I am well enough, Master.” That was the only acceptable answer for a slave to give, whether or not Stark knew it.

Stark leaned his head back on the couch and spoke to the ceiling, “Well enough. Well enough. Well, that’s great. You’re so well that you don’t need food, anymore? Hmm? You wanna tell me why you’re on hunger strike?”

Loki was not familiar with that term, but he knew what Stark was referring to. His decision to reduce the cost of keeping him until it was equal to the value of work he was able to complete. Loki gripped his hands behind his back. Looked down at the soft, fluffy rug that he had vacuumed a dozen times by now. He did not know what to say.

Stark sighed heavily and leaned forward again. His fingers gently touching the inflamed skin on his face. “I don’t have a lot of time for this bullshit. So if you’ve got a problem, now’s the time to say something. I’m listening.”

Loki knelt silently. Words had fled from his mind and the only question he cared to ask was utterly unacceptable for him to voice. His eyes were damp, and he hung his head. He was taking up his master’s valuable time. He was not working. Every coin he had managed to save his master in the last two weeks was being burned up 100 times over by this waste of Stark's time, sitting here in the penthouse waiting for his slave to speak. Loki's words would not be denied.

“Are you going to sell me, Master?” Loki’s voice broke on the question. He lowered his head even further, as if he could escape his master's notice that way.

“What? Fucking...Loki! Who would I even sell you to? It’s not like I don’t have enough money…” Tony paused, taking in Loki’s stricken posture. “No, Loki. I’m not going to sell you! Just…that’s not going to happen. OK?”

Loki nodded miserably. He understood. He was not worth selling. He was not worth anything. He was not needed to assist in the defense of this realm. He was not needed to provide any outlet for his master's needs. He was not even worth the trouble of finding a buyer for.

“Jesus Christ! That’s what you’re worried about? That I’m going to sell you off?” Stark was glaring at him, lips pressed together, brow lowered.

Loki was desperate to know his purpose. Now the binding had been altered, he was no longer driven to fulfill it, but that was dangerous for a slave. “What use do you have for me, master? I am grateful for everything you have done for me! The food, water, clothing! I only want to serve you well, to be useful to you!” Loki cut off his outburst. He should not be addressing his master in such a manner. If Stark had not altered the binding he would already be in severe pain for such a display.

Stark stood. “I can’t listen to this bullshit. I don’t have time for it. Why do you think I keep you out of the lab? Why do you think I’ve been staying away from you?”

Loki hunched over, heart beating faster. His master was angry with him. He should not have spoken up, he had inadvertently insulted Stark and now he was going to be punished.

Stark did not wait for Loki to respond. He was already walking away, “It’s because I can’t trust myself around you. Because you won’t say no or resist or fight back or leave. Every other fucking person in my life,  _ everyone _ , nothing but ‘no’! Pepper, Steve Rogers, Nick Fury, the  _ fucking UN _ ! No, no no. But not you! All I ever hear from you is  _ Yes Master _ . Yes to anything. Yes to being chained to a table and tortured for hours. Yes to getting on your hands and knees for me. Yes to  _ whatever I say _ . I don’t like who I am around you Loki. So just eat your fucking food and do what FRIDAY tells you and stay away from me.”

Stark's tirade had fallen on Loki’s head like a hammer. He was flat on the floor by the end of it, face down with his arms wrapped around his head, horrified. Stark could not bear to be in the room with him. He was toxic, vile, corrupting.

The elevator opened and Stark stepped inside. He turned around, done with his worthless slave. “Is that clear?” he asked.

Before he could stop himself, before he even thought about it, Loki raised his head and said, “Yes, Master.”

Stark’s hand shot out and blocked the closing door. “Really?” he said, “did you not listen to a word I just said?”

Loki nodded frantically. He scrambled backwards as Stark came back into the room. His back hit the couch and he was trapped. Stark stood over him, the lights from the city below reflected in his eye, red and blue flashes lighting one side of his face. Stark reached down and grabbed the front of Loki's shirt, yanking him up to eye level. Loki could not get his feet under him and dangled there. How was Stark so  _ strong _ ?

Stark tipped his head to one side, studying Loki like he was an interesting specimen. “This is your fault.” he said. Loki nodded, he knew it was his fault. “You make me do this. I don’t want to, but you don’t know how to behave, do you?” He shook Loki, then shoved him back to the floor. Loki lay where he fell, whatever punishment was coming now, he would not make it any better by resisting.

“Strip,” came the order, and Loki tried to obey. His hands were stiff and shaking, his eyes blurred with tears as he pulled off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants.

“Mr Stark...” Friday’s voice came over the air, but Stark cut her off with “mute” and she was silent. Loki knew there was no help for him. He had been wrong, again. Wrong not to eat what Friday told him to. Wrong to think he was strong enough to work without proper sustenance. Wrong to allow his physical state to interrupt his Master's work. Wrong to answer him the exact way Stark had just told him he did not like. Everything he had done had been wrong, and Stark was going to punish him. It would hurt but he would not be sold, he would stay here and get better, work harder, and obey.

Stark pulled off his leather belt. He wrapped it around his fist. Loki was naked on the floor before him, shaking uncontrollably, tears running down his face. Stark grabbed his hair and threw him down over the arm of the couch. Bent over, his raised ass made a fine target, as his master began to demonstrate, hitting him over and over with the belt, the crack of it over his thighs and ass coming a split second before the searing pain. The strokes began to overlay each other and Loki bit his arm to stop himself from screaming. It was like being hit with a burning brand. He was unrestrained and had to just take it, just take it and absorb the pain and wait for the next one. Loki didn’t count. There was no point. He didn't know how many strokes Stark was intending to give him. He went limp, accepting his punishment and crying out with each hit.

When he was done, Stark pushed Loki off the couch and onto the floor. He landed on his abused ass and cried out again from the pain of it. Stark threw the bloody belt at him, “Clean it,” he said, “and that too." He pointed at the white couch, now stained with Loki’s blood. Stark held his gaze for a moment, as if daring him to reply, but Loki knew better now. He did not say a word. The lights from the city below shone in one of Stark’s eyes, making it gleam, bright and feverish. The other side of his face was in darkness. Stark turned to the elevator, and Loki did not move or breathe until he was gone.

As soon as the door to the elevator closed, Loki painfully rolled over onto his belly. He did not want to stain the white rug as well as the couch. The pain made him lightheaded, and he took a few deep breaths before he weakly called out “Friday?”

“Loki,” she replied, “There are towels in the kitchen drawer and a first aid kit under the sink.”

Loki was relieved she did not try to sympathize with him. He was glad to be corrected for his bad behavior. He should have eaten, he should have paid attention to what his master told him, he should have been better. Loki crawled to the kitchen, pulled out the towels and wet one in the sink. He screamed and bit his lip when he used it to wipe the blood off his flesh, but it was necessary. He laid on the floor for a moment while the dizziness passed. He had work to do. The longer he left the blood on the couch the harder it would be to get out.

“Loki, there is anti-inflammatory medication in the first aid kit. Please take two pills with water.”

Loki did as Friday told him. Stark had ordered him to eat what Friday told him to eat, and he was not going to disobey. He ached all over, he was dizzy, his ass and thighs were on fire and every time he moved it got worse. He wrapped a towel around his waist, to prevent any blood drops, and collected his cleaning equipment. He could work despite the pain. The pain would remind him of the lesson. He had two now. _ Do not lie _ and...and...what was the second lesson? Loki frowned. Stark had not been angry until he was in the elevator and Loki said ‘yes master’, but surely the lesson was not  _ don’t say ‘yes master’ _ ? That made no sense. There must be another reason. It must be that he had questioned his master. He already knew that was wrong, yet he had done it anyway. That must be the reason. It did not make sense otherwise, to think that Stark could have punished him for no reason. He did not do that, he was not like Hreidmar, he did not enjoy punishing his slave. He did it to help him improve, to be better. He was a kind master.

_ Do not lie. Do not ask questions. _

Loki repeated his two lessons to himself as he scrubbed the floor and the couch, removing all traces of his blood. He could be better. He would be better.

_ Do not lie. Do not ask questions _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, well, the tiny scrap of comfort is over and we're back to hurt.


	16. Crystal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I'm not totally heartless, and Loki has been through a lot, so he gets a break in this chapter. Not a big one, but you know, it's something.

Loki dozed and shivered through the night, alternately freezing and feverishly hot. His whole body ached. He could not think straight. He circled around and around on what he should have done, what he would do in the future to avoid such punishments. How to be better, more pleasing and obedient. Friday had told him to lie face down over a pillow to “elevate the affected area”, and to keep a wet towel covering the bruises. He did everything she said, both because he had to and because he did not know what else to do. It was a relief to have his every move dictated. Otherwise he was sure he would have wound down like an abandoned clockwork toy and stopped, frozen in place.

When the sun rose, Loki was awake, watching the threads of the pillow and the contours of his hand come into view. He would have to rise soon, to begin the work of the day. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that slaves did not get the laze around and recover from their punishments. They had to work. Loki ghosted his fingers over his bruised flesh. It was tender and hot to the touch, with ridges of scabs where the belt had broken the skin. Loki planned how he could stand up and move around without splitting the skin.

Before he could make any attempt, Friday's voice came over the air. “Loki, please do not try to move.” The door to the room clicked and opened. Loki expected Stark to walk in, to inspect his slave, perhaps to punish him further or even to use him. If Stark wanted to have him now, it was be as effective punishment as the initial beating. Loki braced himself. Stark owned him and he owned his body, if he desired him Loki would welcome his attentions. However, instead of his master’s footsteps, Loki heard a mechanical whine. He turned his head and saw a machine rolling into the room. It was holding a paper bag in it’s single claw-like appendage. It dropped the bag next to Loki’s bed, then maneuvered itself around, bumped the door frame and rolled out. Loki had seen that machine, or similar, in Stark’s lab. Usually it was doing it's own tasks, or just scooting around aimlessly. Stark seemed to treat it more as a pet than as a machine.

“Loki, there is a topical analgesic gel in the bag, please apply it to your injuries.”

Loki did not argue with her, or try to claim that he did not need any such pain-relief. He had to obey her anyway, and he knew that when he moved the pain from the whipping would be unbearable. The cold towel may have reduced some of the swelling, but the bruises would be dark and deep from such a punishment. Loki snagged the bag with his fingertips. There was some soft cloth in there, but he found the glass jar and pulled it out. It was unlabeled, filled with a clear gel. Moving as little as possible, Loki reached around and dabbed the gel on his ass and thighs. It was blessedly cool and numbed the pain down to a dull ache.

Loki slumped down on the bed as the high tide of pain receded and left him lying on the shore. He was relieved that would be able to function, to fulfill his duties today.

“There is a robe in the bag, please put it on, when you are ready.”

Loki put his hand back in the bag and pulled out the soft cloth. Unlike the other clothes Stark had allowed him, the robe was soft and fluffy, it was like touching a kitten. Loki was uncomfortable being given such an item to wear. He could put on his usual clothes. They were rougher and would irritate his skin, but that was part of the punishment, to suffer while the injuries healed.

He paused before speaking. He should not ask questions. He knew that now. Friday served Stark, just as he did. If she had provided him this soft robe to wear, that meant it was his Master’s wish that he wear it. That made sense. He had no need to ask questions.

Loki inched himself off the bed, trying to move as little as possible. The gel had greatly eased the pain, but it was still there, lurking beneath the surface. When he was on his feet, Loki wrapped himself in the robe. The cloth touching his tender flesh was bearable. It was warm, and so soft, and the gel worked so well. It was uncomfortable, but tolerable. Loki would be able to work.

“Mr Stark is not in the tower today. He is traveling on business. Please proceed to the kitchen for breakfast.”

Loki was ashamed at the flood of relief when he heard his master was not in the tower. Not that he would have any objection to serving him today! None at all, he would be glad to be useful, and do whatever his master desired. He would only, perhaps, rather be healed before he was called upon. So that he could serve better.

Loki took out the breakfast that Friday told him was for him. Yogurt, fruit, a hard-boiled egg. It looked so much, after weeks of eating so little. Loki knew he had to eat it all, though.

As if reading his mind, Friday said, “Loki, please eat slowly. You only have light duties for the next two days.”

Loki stood at the kitchen counter and ate his food. As instructed, he ate slowly, carefully. After breakfast, Friday had him wash and polish all the glassware at the bar. He was able to do it standing at the bar, and the task did not require him to bend or lift anything heavy. Loki fell into an easy rhythm of washing, drying and shining all the delicate crystal, ensuing there was no smudge or mark on it. He was surprised when Friday had him break for lunch, which he was again instructed to eat slowly. When the glassware was all cleaned and polished to a high shine, Friday sent him back to his room. He reapplied the cooling gel and laid on his bed, his limbs heavy. Despite his light work, he was exhausted.

Loki wondered how long his master would be gone, but then remembered that he was not to ask questions. It was simpler this way. Better. No need for him to curious about anything. His master or Friday would tell him what he needed to know, anything else was not his concern. It was not his concern how long Stark would be gone, he simply needed to follow his instructions. Stark was very wise to give him this lesson. Already he could tell it would be easier for him, not to wonder about things that did not concern him. Stark was wise, and kind.

Loki was lucky to be here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday is doing her best! 
> 
> I love to get your ideas and suggestions, tell me what you like and what worked well - I always want to give the people what they want :))))


	17. Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap, I spent a few days trying to write a chapter that just wasn't working, so I took a different direction. Hope you like it!

A faint tremor ran through the penthouse, and Loki’s skin tingled.

“Loki, your presence is required in the living room.”

Loki roused himself from the exhausted doze and gingerly stood. He had been laying on the bed since he had finished cleaning the glassware in the afternoon. He was unreasonably tired from the light effort of the day’s work, and his bruises were aching. Still, he had been summoned, so he pulled on the fluffy robe and headed to the living room. Perhaps Friday had thought of some other task he needed to complete before sleeping.

When he walked out to the main room of the penthouse, Thor was there. “Brother!” he called, holding his arms out. Loki longed to accept that embrace, but he knew his place. He dropped to his knees instead, and bowed his head. “King Thor,” he said, his heart leaping in his chest to see Thor again so soon. He had not thought he would return, having verified that Loki was being well treated by his ally.

“Loki…” Thor protested, but he did not press the issue. “Stark is not here?” He asked instead, looking around the room.

“No, your majesty. My master is traveling on business.”

Thor threw himself back onto the couch. “You are well?” he asked Loki.

Loki froze. _ Do not lie. _

“I am well enough, your Majesty,” he ventured. ‘Well enough’ was a truthful statement, and indeed, he was well enough after his punishment, thanks to Friday’s healing gel.

Thor tapped his fingers on his thigh. “How goes your work? You are progressing well with Midgard’s defense?”

_Do not lie._ _Do not lie._

Loki would rather not confess that he was no longer allowed to assist in Stark's important work, and instead had been reduced to cleaning and laundry. But Thor was looking at him, waiting for his response, and he could not lie.

“My master is working with the Chitauri devices. He is uncovering their secrets. It is...it is not my place to question him on his progress.”

Stark did not deign to share his plans with his slave. Why should he? Loki had no need to know anything other that what his duties were for that day. It was easier for him that way. He would only be confused and distracted by too much information.

_ Do not ask questions. _

Loki gripped his hands behind his back. He flinched as the motion pulled at his healing skin. He hoped Thor would not notice such a small reaction.

Thor was watching him, brow furrowed. “Brother,” he said thoughtfully, “I am thirsty.”

Loki winced, of course he should have offered hospitality to his master’s guest! “My apologies your majesty. Please allow me to offer you a drink, what is your preference? My master has a great variety of Midgardian ales and spirits, or a hot drink if you prefer?”

Thor was still watching him, eyes narrowed. “Aye brother, a drink would be welcome. I am fond of that strange drink 'Dr Pepper', do you have any of that?”

“Yes, your majesty!” Loki had seen the dark red cans of Dr Pepper, along with many other types of sodas, in the large refrigerator. He leapt to his feet to fetch the drink and immediately realized his mistake as he yanked the tender flesh on his ass and thighs. Pain washed through him. He froze for a second, feeling the blood drain from his face. The pain relieving gel could only do so much, and he was supposed to be moving slowly and carefully.

Thor got to his feet and came towards him, looking him up and down. “What ails you, brother?” he asked, lowly.

_ Do not lie. _

Loki backed away, towards the kitchen. Thor followed.

“Are you hurt, Loki?”

_ Do not lie. _

Loki retreated to the kitchen, but it was a mistake as Thor blocked the only entrance. Loki grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and held it in front of himself, as though it could shield him from the questions of a king.

“Brother…” Thor’s tone was concerned, worried. Loki did not know how to respond, but he must respond. Thor was a king and he was a slave, he had no right to refuse. But he must not lie! And he must not be removed from this place! There was nowhere better for him. He was lucky to be here, lucky to have a master like Stark who cared to teach him and improve him.

Thor was right in front of Loki, backing him into the corner of the counter, with nowhere further to retreat. Thor gently took the soda from Loki's shaking hands and placed it on the counter. Loki half expected Thor to pull off his robe and examine him himself, but he did not. Loki had no right to refuse if Thor told him to strip. Even though Stark was not here to order it, Thor was his master’s guest and a king, no less. Loki would not shame his master’s house by refusing him.

“Brother, what has happened to you?”

Loki looked down. Now he must speak the truth to his former brother, that he had been beaten by his master for his bad behavior. His cheeks heated with shame. He hugged himself tightly, pulling the robe closely around himself.

“I...I...my master has corrected my behavior. But I am well enough! It was my own fault. He did not want to do it! Your majesty, please, I have learned my lesson. I will be better, it was my own fault!”

Thor gripped Loki’s arms. “What has he done to you?”

_Do not lie._ _Do not lie._ _Do not lie._

“It was nothing your majesty! It was practically nothing!”

“Nothing does not make you look that way when you stand up too fast. Tell me. I will not leave you here to be treated no better than the cursed Nidavellir!”

Loki's blood was pounding. Visions of another master, another new place with new rules to learn, new cruelties and worse ones, no doubt.

“No! Please! I beg you, your majesty, please do not!” Loki would have fallen to his knees but Thor was too close, keeping him pinned against the counter. “Please do not take me away, it was my own fault! Stark is kind to me, he only wants me to be better, to be able to to serve him and help his work. He have given me a bed, food, clothes, he does not...he does not treat me as the Nidavellir did.”

Thor was staring at him, his bright blue eyes as wide and clear and beautiful as ever. Loki could not allow Thor to fret over him, or to destroy his alliance with Stark. As much as Loki did not deserve it, he still loved his former brother. He was the only one who loved him still, who had come for him, rescued him, protected him. But he was a king now, and had many cares. Loki could not allow him to spend his time and energy worried about his lowly not-brother. Loki swallowed. He could say it. He must.  _ Do not lie. _

He took a breath and the words rushed out from his mouth. “Your majesty, my master punished me for asking impertinent questions. He hit me with a belt. It was painful but it was not undeserved. Please, do not do anything rash. He is entitled to discipline in his own home, is he not? I do not want to leave. I want to stay. Stark is doing important work and I know I can help him. I will not misbehave and he will have no cause to punish me again.”

Thor stepped back and allowed Loki his space. He looked him up and down, eyes sharp. Loki knew he was seeing a different picture than the miserable wretch he had rescued weeks ago, a picture that spoke to how well Stark treated him. Thor deflated. “Brother, I confess, I know not where to take you, where you would be safer than here. It was ever your way to ask impertinent questions, and on Asgard or even Vanaheim, the expectations for your behavior would be no different. I have few better allies and friends than Stark, to ask for such a favor.”

Loki let out his breath. “Yes your majesty. It was my fault, I was provoking, and I will not do it again. You will allow me to remain here?”

Thor nodded. “Aye. I will. When will Stark return? I wish to speak with him.”

“I do not know, your majesty, he did not inform me of his plans.”

_ Do not ask questions. _

‘Hmm. Very well, I will return when I can. I will speak to him of this, and I have news of our mutual enemy and his dealings. We must be ready for his attempts to attack this place and retrieve the Tesseract and the mind gem, from your scepter.”

Loki froze. The mind gem had been in the scepter Thanos had given him? His memories from that time were blurred, patchy, broken by dreamlike visions. His only strong memory was laying broken on the floor of the very apartment, surrounded by enemies. Other memories came and went, of darkness, fear and pain, a voice twisting his desires, a yearning for nothing more than his freedom. And now where was he? Begging his former brother to be left with his master, too afraid to leave, too weak, too pathetic.

‘I must go. Matters require my attention." Loki nodded, and Thor smiled at him, his face weary but content with his decision. He grabbed the cold can of soda from the counter and tossed it in one hand.

“Brother, if you were to miss me, consider this. I will take this to Asgard, and after a long day listening to petitioners and advisors, I will be alone in the great hall, drinking Dr Pepper on the throne of Asgard.”

Thor grinned and him, and despite himself, Loki smiled back. Thor was an irrepressible well of good humor, and the image was a humorous one. Loki would not be surprised if Thor actually did do that, just to make himself laugh.

They walked to the balcony together, side by side. Thor held Loki's arm to prevent him from falling back to a more respectful position behind him. For a moment, just a single moment, Loki wished that this could be his life instead. To be his brother's advisor, his confidant, to support him and add his strength to that of Asgard's king. But that was never his destiny. This was his place now, slave to the mortal Tony Stark. He could only hope that when Thanos came, he had done enough for Stark to grant him some scrap of protection against that adversary.

If not... if not ...he hoped that Stark would be kind enough to kill him quickly, rather than allow him to be taken. Loki shivered. He had to be useful, to be valuable to Stark. That was all that mattered. If he wanted protection from Thanos, he would have to be perfect. Loyal, submissive, willing. He could do that. He would. When Stark returned, he would show him that he had learned his lessons and was ready to serve.

_ Do not lie. Do not ask questions. _

If Stark had any other lessons for him, he would learn those too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter that didn't work was Stark cutting a deal with some shadowy business partners that included Loki's "services" as part of the price. It was fun but I couldn't make it work with the story and it would have a been a long digression without actually moving the story forward. Maybe it will work in later on, if you think it would be interesting, but honestly it might not. 
> 
> Hope you're all having a great weekend! I will try for a chapter tomorrow as well. :)


	18. Salt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Muse_of_Gods wanted some smut and especially oral, so here it is! Thanks to all for your support and suggestions, I may not be able to use them all but I do think about them all and they may spark ideas and end up included in some other forms!

Stark returned the next evening. Loki was summoned from his room to find his master slouched on the couch, one hand over his face.

“Drink,” was all he said. Loki rushed to fetch his preferred liquor in one of the newly shined glasses. Stark was wearing Midgardian formal attire. He had removed the jacket but was still wearing the matching pants, waistcoat and bright white shirt. Loki felt shabby in comparison in his jeans and simple cotton shirt. He knelt before Stark and placed the glass within reach of his hand.

Stark was watching the large screen between his fingers. Two heavily made-up people were talking to the camera. Their terse voices filtered through to Loki as he knelt, awaiting further instructions.

… _the billionaire is no stranger to controversy, first as a notorious weapons dealer and playboy, and later is his incarnation as Iron Man, purported superhero and member of the now disbanded Avengers. Stark's statement to the UN reignited the debate over super powered individuals operating without government oversight…_

“Take off my shoes.” Stark did not move the hand from over his face, fingers massaging his temples. Loki was anxious to see his master's face, to check the implants and the progress of the infection. Of course there was nothing he could do about that. Instead he eased off his master's shoes and set them to one side. Stark stretched out his feet and wiggled his toes with a heartfelt groan. Daring, Loki touched Stark's feet with his fingertips, asking quietly, “May I, Master?”

After a moment Stark nodded. Loki bent to his task, heart leaping in his chest that he was allowed to provide some personal service to his master. He took Stark’s socked foot in his hands, rubbing from his heel to his toes. He worked the pressure points and areas where he knew tension would gather. He was actually rather good at this. There was little more guaranteed to melt the hearts, and other parts, of court ladies than a prince of Asgard kneeling, tending to their delicate feet. Loki had used that technique to good effect in the past.

Stark seemed appreciative as well, allowing Loki to work uninterrupted for some minutes. Stark sipped his drink and stared at the screen. Loki tried to tune out the show and focus on his task, but the words filtered through.

... _ultimatum demanding worldwide defensive coordination to face an extraterrestrial threat that he has provided no proof of. When questioned further, Stark replied, and I quote, “You can do it yourselves, or I'll do it for you”. He declined to clarify that remark. A representative of Stark Industries later issued this statement. “Tony Stark remains the majority shareholder of Stark Industries, but is no longer involved in company operations…."_

When the presenter read the statement, Stark snorted and pulled his foot away from Loki's hands.

“They'll get their proof soon enough,” he said bitterly. “We'll have no chance if we can't act together, but these idiots can't see past the end of their nose.”

Having not been asked a direct question, Loki did not reply, but Stark was right. When Thanos came it would be with overwhelming force. Midgard had very little time to ready itself to meet the threat. If they could not unite, they would not survive.

Stark clicked off the screen and Loki felt his gaze. He wished he had braided his hair or made some other effort to improve his appearance. Stark seemed tired but otherwise in a satisfied mood. Perhaps, he would have some wish for Loki to serve him further. Loki would be glad to be of use. He had limited opportunities to show his worth, how useful he could be, how he could please his master. He could not let this one slip through his fingers. He was dependent on Stark not only for his day-to-day survival, but also for protection from Thanos and his minions. Loki considered his options. Stark had said he would not use Loki's mouth, but that had been weeks ago. Since then, he had broken the binding, and he had demonstrated his complete control over Loki. It was worth the risk. Loki parted his lips. Stark was watching. Would he be angry with Loki for being so bold, or would he take his clear offer? Or both?

Stark had not seemed to particularly enjoy using Loki. That was his own fault, for not making enough effort to be pleasing. He could make up for that now. Stark was tired, he was enjoying a drink, surely he would enjoy being pleasured by his slave while he relaxed from his trying day.

Loki had resolved to be better, to be more useful, more valuable. Even if he was punished for it, he must offer himself to his master, rather that be thought unwilling.

Not making eye contact, Loki slowly knelt up, “May I, Master?” He said lowly, gesturing towards the waistband of Stark’s pants. Stark did not reply and Loki held his breath, unsure if he had overstepped or if Stark had been waiting for him to offer. He should not have to order his slave to perform his duties after all. Loki should always be looking for ways to serve.

After a few moments, Stark sighed, “Why the hell not,” he said. He sprawled his legs wide on the couch and nudged Loki to crawl between them. Loki needed no further encouragement. He reached out and opened his master's clothing, arranging his pants and underwear to free his thickening cock. Close up, it seemed larger than he remembered. Loki swallowed nervously. He reminded himself that he had already taken that cock in his ass. His mouth should not be a problem.

Stark did not move to control Loki movements or tell him what to do, Loki surmised he was supposed to get started. He was glad to be given a chance to be useful, to prove himself in this way. Not that anyone cared for his preference, but given a choice, he would rather his mouth be used than the alternative. The helpless feeling of having another cock shoved up his ass and begin to pump his insides, rough hands clutching his hips, little regard for his pain as they groaned out their pleasure… and then the next one, and then next…. Yes, this was better.

Loki lowered his head, licked a long stripe up and over the head, swirling his tongue as he went. Stark sighed and relaxed down into the couch. It was not often that Loki was allowed to go at his own pace. Usually there was a hand in his hair or on the back of his head, pushing him down. Even that was acceptable, as long as they remembered to let him breathe.

Loki suckled at the tip, tasting salt, mild soap, Stark's musk in his mouth. He built the sensation with lips and tongue, minding his teeth and ensuring constant stimulation. He took as much as he could in his mouth, pushing past the point of comfort, and wrapped his hand around the base.

“No hands,” Stark ordered, and immediately Loki put his hands behind his back, using only his mouth. He could do this. He had done it many, many times before. He pushed himself down, swallowing to ease the hard length into the tight passage of his throat. Stark groaned as the head popped into his throat. Loki wriggled his head from side to side until his nose nuzzled up against his master’s pelvis, his entire length encased in tight heat. Loki sucked as well as he could. He had little room to work but he would show willingness. He swallowed again, his head beginning to spin without oxygen. Stark was rocking his hips up, light thrusts that rubbed the head of his cock into Loki’s throat. Loki stayed down. Stars danced in front of his eyes as he allowed his throat to be used, allowed his master to take his pleasure. When he could not wait any longer, Loki pulled up for a breath and pushed back down. A quick gulp of air was all he needed, his master’s pleasure came first. He must be willing and submissive, nothing was more important than that. Stark’s cock slid easily into his throat this time, already slick with saliva and precum. Stark groaned again, “That’s good” he said. Loki glowed at the praise, working the length in his throat, forcing himself to stay down longer this time, sucking as much as could. He ignored the ache in his jaw, it was nothing to him, it was irrelevant to the pleasure he could feel growing in his master. Stark was breathing hard, one hand rested on Loki's hair, encouraging him to bob his head. He was close. Loki ignored his urgent need to breathe and swallowed again, finding the exact spot that had caused Stark to moan before, working himself over and over on that moment, sliding Stark's cock in and out of his throat, the tightness there giving him the greatest pleasure.

“Fuck. Yes! Fuck.” Stark’s cock pulsed and Loki tasted salt at the back of his tongue. It tasted sweet to him. Proof that he had done well, that he was good. He swallowed it all, licked his master’s cock clean. He tucked him back into his clothes and knelt, waiting, at his feet.

“Well shit.” Stark sounded dazed. Loki could only hope he had done well. Norns knew Stark had enough experience to know what he liked from his bed partners. No doubt Midgardian bedwarmers and courtesans were just as well trained as those on other realms.

Stark sat forward and beckoned Loki to come closer. Loki obeyed, and was shocked when Stark tipped his glass and poured a sip of his expensive liquor into Loki’s mouth. From his own glass. The same glass that he then took another large swig from. Loki’s heart soared. Never had he been so well rewarded by the Nidavellir! He must have pleased Stark very well.

“Well shit.” Stark repeated, and laid back on the couch, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. Loki took the opportunity to glance at his master's face. Despite the obvious tiredness there was no sign of soreness or infection around the implants. Loki took another quick look. Perhaps the days away from the Chitauri artifacts had allowed Stark some time to recover.

“Alright, well, that was unexpected. Nice job. Very nice. I guess I shouldn't have done that...but I’ve been awake for…I don’t know how long now. And yeah, that was nice...” Stark tailed off. Loki did not know what he meant that he should not have done that. Stark had every right to do whatever he pleased with his slave, and Loki himself was happy to serve in such ways. Perhaps, there was some Midgardian significance to the act that Loki was unaware of.

Stark gave Loki his empty glass and stood. “See you in the morning, Loki,” he said, and left the room. He seemed rushed. Perhaps he was overtaken by his tiredness, and needed to sleep. Loki waited for a moment to ensure he was gone, then washed and polished the glass and returned to his room. Friday had given him some mint-tasting paste to clean his teeth, but that night he did not use it.

He went to bed tasting salt and liquor on his tongue. It tasted of safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki is in Tony's good graces now...surely nothing else bad will happen? Right?


	19. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quiet little interlude.
> 
> Confession: I mainly wanted to post a chapter so I could yell at you all to go look at this beautiful art! Go look at it now!  
> https://lokiofasgaaaard.tumblr.com/post/171321049770/a-quick-scetch-for-the-heartbreaking-good-story

Loki rose early, before the sun came over the horizon. Loki was flush from his success the previous night, and determined to do as well today. He showered and dressed and stared into the mirror at his reflection. He was not so thin or tired as when he had arrived, but still he lacked appeal. His hair had no shine, his eyes had no sparkle. How to improve his looks? He wracked his mind for any hints of what Stark had liked about his appearance. He had commented on the braid, and once he had said that Loki had a “nice ass”, which was not much to go on. Loki tucked his shirt into his pants. It did show off his ass a little better, but he worried that it was not fashionable to wear one’s clothes that way. Stark always wore his casual shirts loose, and only his formal shirts tucked into his pants. Loki had no formal shirts, and really no choice of clothes at all except for a variety of dull colors in the same style. Loki traded the dark grey shirt for a dark blue one, but there was no improvement. Somewhat desperately, Loki went back to the sparse closet to review his options again.

“Loki, is there something you need added to your wardrobe?” Friday, ever attentive, had noticed him trying on clothes.

“No!” Loki blurted out. “My master has been very generous! I am grateful for the clothing he has provided me with!” The last thing Loki wanted was to give Stark the impression that he was unsatisfied. He no desire to earn any lesson on the subject, he was very thankful for his master's generosity.

Friday did not let it go. “You seem to be searching for something. When you arrived, Mr Stark asked me to provide you with clothing in your size. Is there something I missed?”

Loki thought. Friday was not an ally, but she was the closest thing he had to one in this place. The closest thing he had had to an ally or friend in the last four years. She was a machine, he was not a rival to her for Stark's regard. Perhaps he could ask her assistance.

“I am trying to improve my appearance,” Loki confessed, “To be more pleasing to my master. Do you perhaps have any suggestions?”

Friday paused for a moment. “I will analyze Mr Stark’s preferences and procure additional clothing for you.”

Loki’s stomach lurched at her causal decision to spend his master’s money. "No! I do not wish to incur any expense!”

“Loki, I can assure you, any expense will be well under the discretionary funds Mr Stark has allocated for my maintenance of the penthouse. Maintenance of your clothing comes under that heading.”

She was correct of course. Loki and his clothes, food, water and other expenses all were part of his master’s household, and would be accounted as such.

Loki decided to be bold. “May I please also ask for a hairbrush?”

“I will order you one. Please let me know if you have any other requests.”

It was still early, Loki had nothing to do but sit on the bed and wait. Loki used the time reviewing the events of the previous night. He had pleased Stark and been allowed to serve him. Stark had approved of his actions, of the offer of his mouth, of not waiting to be ordered. If Loki wished to improve his situation, he must use that knowledge. Stark did not want to order him to comply. He must want him to willingly offer himself, to anticipate his master's wishes and desires, and be ready to fulfill them. Loki had been mistaken to think Stark was like Hreidmar, who had wanted Loki passive and beaten down, just a thing to be used. Stark wanted him to be thinking of ways to please him. And why should he not? Stark worked hard, he was a hero of Midgard, he would defend Midgard against it’s greatest ever threat. He should not have to also be thinking of how his slave should serve him. Loki understood better now why Stark had been impatient with him, why he had not wanted to see him. He had said Loki never said no to him, never resisted. Of course, Loki should never even have the opportunity to say no, he should be offering himself to fulfill his master’s wishes, not waiting to be ordered.

The sun was rising when Loki's door clicked open. The machine that had delivered the healing gel appeared with another paper bag, larger this time. Loki was impressed with the speed that Friday could command merchants to deliver goods. Stark's household was well run under her watch. Loki took the bag and unloaded it on the bed, a slight flutter of excitement in his belly. Yet again he had new items, although obviously he did not own them, and they could be taken away at any time. Loki sorted through the clothes one by one, soft fabrics running over his hands. There was a variety of colors and styles. He admired a soft velvet tunic, dark plum color with gold thread around the sleeves. He could hardly believe that he was allowed to wear such things. He had seen favored courtesans wearing such fine clothes in Asgard, but he was no favorite. Not yet.

At the bottom of the bag, Loki found the hairbrush, and underneath it, a flat black case. Curious, he opened the case. His eyes widened when he saw the rainbow selection of powders, and a set of brushes of different sizes. It was makeup. Loki flushed and quickly closed the case. He knew why Friday had purchased it. Loki knew of only one type of male who wore makeup, and he knew that was also his role now. He was a whore, his purpose was to be pleasing and compliant and to serve his master. He was a whore, and he may as well try to be a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you look at the art??? Please throw a like/comment/reblog to the artist lokiofasgaaaard/shivanessa because it's so amazing!!


	20. Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I was gonna move on with the plot but then this happened. Let's leave them alone for a few more chapters to have some 'activities' before anything else happens. Does that work for everyone?

Loki put away the plum colored tunic. It was beautiful, but he should start small. Change his appearance in increments and discover what his master liked. Friday had purchased items that Stark had a preference for, but that didn’t mean he would like them on Loki. Loki did not want to earn any more lessons by overstepping his position. Instead of the shimmering rich fabric of the tunic, Loki selected some tight deep blue pants, and a dark grey short-sleeve button-up shirt. He left the top two buttons undone, exposing his collarbone and a few inches of his chest. It was only marred by the heavy metal collar around his neck. But of course, Stark would like to see that too, the clear evidence of his ownership of Loki. He brushed out his hair and painstakingly braided a loop to hold back the sides. A good amount of his long hair remained loose to cascade down his back. He looked acceptable. He rested his fingers on the black case. Should he use any of the cosmetics? Friday had given it to him, which must mean Stark liked it. But what did he like? Loki opened the case. Perhaps some kohl around his eyes, it would not hurt to try and improve them a little. If Stark liked him better, found him more appealing, it could only improve his standing here. Make him safer, more valuable. Perhaps his master would not punish his inevitable mistakes so harshly.

Loki cut off that train of thought. He was grateful for his master’s punishments, they helped him learn, to be better.

Loki stilled his hands, grasping them together and taking deep breaths. He picked up the kohl stick and smudged it around his eyes. He looked away from the mirror. All that mattered was that Stark was pleased. No one from his past life could see him, and their opinion was irrelevant.

Loki paced the room. He had decided on his path and now nervous energy was rising in him.

“Friday,” Loki ventured, “May I wait outside my masters room?”

In answer, Loki's door clicked open. He ghosted through the penthouse to the double doors of his master's bedchamber. The penthouse was silent, the sun was barely up and Stark was not an early riser. The floor of the hallway was hard marble, but Loki positioned himself out of the way and knelt. He would wait. If his master had no time for him that morning, at least he would have tried, have shown his willingness.

Usually Loki would use such rare quiet time to meditate, but he could not summon the focus this day. His mind drifted to the previous night. The warm glow of his master’s approval, the sip of liquor from his glass, burning his sore throat and mixing with the taste of salt. Loki wanted that again. To be wanted, to be valued.

Time ticked by. Loki knees ached and he put it out of his mind. It was small price to pay to be ready and available to his master. Loki listened for movement, for sounds that his master was awake, but heard nothing. As he waited, he grew uncertain. Why had he done this? Stark would be busy. He would not have time to stop and make any use of Loki, no matter if he even liked his appearance. He had been arrogant to think that he was worth distracting Stark from his important work. Stark would be annoyed to see him, out of his room, wearing new clothes that had obviously been purchased with his master's money. Loki was about to change his mind and flee back to his room, when the door to Stark’s chamber opened and the man himself exited.

He stopped short when he saw Loki kneeling in the hallway. Loki, already stressed and anxious, bowed his head and gripped his hands behind his back. This was a foolish plan! He invited punishment on himself!

Stark strolled over to him and put two fingers under his chin, raising his head. Loki complied, but did not dare look his master in the eye. Loki could barely breathe. What should he do now? Should be offer himself? Or was his presence here and his appearance a clear enough offer? Stark tipped his head up further. “Look at me.” he commanded, and Loki did. For the first time since he arrived, he looked directly into his master’s eyes. They were deep golden brown, glowing in the early light. The implants were hardly noticeable.

Stark stared at Loki, taking in his hair, his kohl-lined eyes, his unbuttoned shirt. He smiled, and Loki’s heart leapt. His master was pleased! Would he use him now? Loki was ready. He would comply with whatever his master desired. Perhaps he would take him back into him chamber and spread him out on his bed. Or if he only wished to use his mouth again in this hallway, Loki would be grateful even for that, to be allowed to serve. Stark stroked his thumb across Loki's lips. He parted them easily, willingly, hoping that his master was thinking of last night, how Loki had pleasured him and perhaps he would want him to do so again.

Stark's thumb slipped into his mouth, stroking over his tongue. Loki closed his lips and sucked, shivering as his master let out an approving hum. Stark tucked Loki's hair back with his other hand. “So this is your thing now?” he asked. He did not remove his thumb, so Loki simply nodded his head. He was unsure what his master meant, but the correct answer to any such question was always _yes_.

Stark pulled his thumb out of Loki’s mouth with a faint pop. He was smiling still, and Loki did not know how to react. Luckily, Stark did not make him wait.

“Yeah, OK. I mean, what else am I going to do with you?” Stark was talking seemingly to himself. “You’re willing enough and it’s not as though I get time to go pick up girls anymore. Who's even going to know?” Stark’s hand slowly curled into Loki’s hair, as though Stark himself was unaware of it. Loki's breath came faster. He could not predict what Stark wanted from him. He seemed pleased, by his appearance and by his clear willingness to perform for him. But what did he want? Did he want Loki to take the lead? He had seemed to like it last night, but the mood was different now, Stark’s eyes were on him, pinning him in place, his hand tightening in his hair.

Stark's phone chimed and he checked the screen, considering. After a few heartbeats, he let go of Loki. “It’s gonna have to be later, but..” he tapped his phone against his chin, “I’m gonna send you up something. Something fun. For me. So you be good now!” Stark strolled away, flipping his phone in his hands. He turned and winked at Loki before he rounded the corner.

Loki heard the ding of the elevator and slumped back on the floor, exhaling and allowing all his muscles to relax. That had gone well. His master had been pleased! He had been tempted by him, only his important work kept him from using him. Loki wrapped his arms around himself, tucked his hands under his shoulders and hugged himself. The shaking was from excitement. Stark would use him later. He was even going to send him something, whatever he had meant by that. Perhaps something else to wear? It mattered not.

Whatever Stark gave him, he would get on his knees and kiss his feet and thank him. That is what slaves did, if they wanted to survive. And if nothing else, Loki was a survivor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone want to guess what Tony's 'gift' is going to be? Hehe! It's coming next chapter!


	21. Peformance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags are updated, more dubious consent in this chapter.
> 
> Aaaaaand check this out! More AMAZING art:  
> https://lokiofasgaaaard.tumblr.com/post/171493901430/a-more-elaborate-scetch-for-the-absolutely-nice
> 
> First Art (for those who missed it):  
> https://lokiofasgaaaard.tumblr.com/post/171321049770/a-quick-scetch-for-the-heartbreaking-good-story

“Do you like it?”

Loki swallowed. He could not tear his eyes away from the image of himself in the mirror of Stark’s extensive dressing room. His shirt was open, pants pulled down to his knees, and a gleaming golden cage  was clamped  around his cock and balls. It was  utterly  unexpected and Loki struggled to recover himself. Stark had pulled his clothes away and clicked the device closed around him. There was no visible lock or hinge. The metal warmed to his skin, it did not hurt him, but it felt present in a way that he could not ignored. Stark was waiting, arms folded, a satisfied gleam in his eye.

“I...I am not sure, master,” Loki forced out. It was not a lie, even it was not the entire truth.

Stark smirked. “Well I like it. You know why?”

Loki could make several guesses. In a different situation, he might have thought it was to prevent him from laying with anyone but his master. That made no sense here though, there was only Stark in the penthouse, and Loki could not leave.  Perhaps  Loki  was forbidden  from pleasuring himself? Loki had no desire to do anything of that sort, and had not for a long time.  Most likely the cage was another mark of ownership, along with the collar he wore, to display his subjugation to his master’s desires .

Stark did not wait for Loki to struggle with a response to his question.  He looped his finger through the heavy ring that wrapped behind Loki's balls and tugged him around to face him  . Loki flushed at  being directed  thus, but he had no choice but to comply. Not only was he bound to obey Stark, but now his master  literally  had him by the balls.

Stark grinned,  clearly  enjoying himself. He did not let go of the ring, and Loki squirmed in place. It did not hurt, but it felt vulnerable to  be controlled  so  intimately . If he chose to, Stark could pull on the ring as hard as he wished and Loki could do nothing to prevent it. Loki took a breath to calm himself. This was no different to his previous situation. If Stark had wished to hurt him in such a way he could have done so at any time. This device pleased his master, and so Loki welcomed it.

“Well you think about it. I’ve got to get back to work soon.

Stark gave a quick tug on the ring and Loki stumbled forward. Stark laughed and did it again. Loki was off balance, his pants were still around his knees, he could not resist the gentle pulls on the ring. Stark seemed to enjoy Loki’s disorientation as much as he was enjoying having him locked up in the cage. 

“Thank you, master,” he said.  He was no fool, to not thank his master for this ‘gift’, even though it  clearly  was no gift for him, but rather his masters gift to himself . 

Stark smiled at him, eyes bright, no trace of the fever or blank stare of the Chitauri devices. Loki could only hope his master  was done  with such things, although it was unlikely.  Now that Loki was not required in the lab, he was less likely to have Stark's attention when he was using the artifacts . Loki would prefer it to stay that way.

Stark gave one last gentle pull on the ring and then released it. “Hey, you’re doing fine,” he said, “I like this arrangement.  I think  it’s going to work out. You behave yourself and play nice with me, and I’ll play nice with you, OK?”

Loki understood the bargain he was being offered. He would  comply with  Stark’s desires and Stark would keep him in his current luxurious state. His own room, a bed, hot water, clothing, food. It was an  extremely  generous bargain.  Stark owned Loki and he could make him  comply with  his desires without offering him anything at all in return . Loki could not have hoped for a better outcome. He nodded.

“Yes master. Thank you master.”

Stark checked his phone. He looked from the screen to Loki, undressed before him. Loki tipped his head to the side, attempting to look inviting but not expectant. He was not more important than Stark's work in the lab. But if Stark was in need of a break or some stress relief, Loki was available.

“Friday,” Stark asked, “how much longer does my test have to run?”

“The first series of tests will complete in 22 minutes, Mr Stark.”

Stark looked back at Loki, eyes darkening. “On the bed,” he ordered, “On your back.”

Loki hurried to comply. This was what he had hoped for. To  be wanted  and desired by his owner. To be useful. Loki kicked off his pants and let the shirt fall off his shoulders. Wearing the collar and the cock cage, he lay on his master’s bed. Stark followed, unbuttoning his pants and climbing between Loki’s legs. Loki was unsure how to behave. Should be lie there and wait for orders? Or be more forward? Stark had enjoyed his forwardness last night, or so it had seemed.  Loki  tentatively  put his arms around Stark’s shoulders, raised his knees as Stark nestled himself on top of Loki .

“Yeah, that’s good,  just  let me…” Stark reached over and pulled the now familiar tube and small packets out of the bedside table . Loki lay back, spreading his legs further to allow his master easy access. Stark would be gentle enough with him, he had no need to fear. Loki breathed. This was good. This was what he wanted.

Stark’s slick fingers found Loki’s entrance and began to prepare him. Stark pushed two fingers inside and spread them apart. Loki took a deep breath, exhaled, relaxed himself on the bed, open and willing and compliant.

“Good?” Stark asked him, and Loki could only nod. Of course it was good. Of course. Good to be wanted, to be useful, to be prepared for use so kindly. Loki pulled his knees up and wrapped his legs around Stark’s back. He welcomed his master’s attention. To be allowed on his master’s own bed, to be taken gently. It was what he wanted. Loki breathed through the pressure as Stark lined himself up and pushed inside. He leaned down over Loki, his weight resting on Loki, skin touching skin. Loki tightened his arms around Stark’s shoulders, pulling him closer, encouraging him to nuzzle into his neck. He could smell Stark's hair, a pleasant sweet smell. Loki could be good. He could perform adequately. He would please his master. That was the bargain Stark had offered him. To keep his current luxurious living arrangements, all he had to do was this. He could do it. He would.

Loki moved his hips in time with Stark’s thrusts. He squeezed Stark’s waist with his thighs, stroked his back with his hands. His movements felt forced and mechanical, but Stark did not seem to notice. He was already breathing hard, thrusting harder and faster inside Loki. It did not hurt. Loki put it out of his mind. Stark’s pleasure was all that mattered. He should not expect to feel any such thing himself. In a sudden rush he understood why Stark had locked the cage around his cock and balls. No doubt he enjoyed the ownership and dominance of it, but that was not all.  If he wanted Loki to pretend enthusiasm, the cage prevented any obvious  indication  that his enthusiasm was not genuine  . The cage would not allow him to get hard, even if he  was aroused  enough to do so. Loki's lack of physical reaction would not give him away.

Stark bit Loki’s shoulder, pulling his attention back to this moment. His hips stuttered as he climaxed. Loki clenched his muscles to give a final boost to his master’s pleasure and  was rewarded  with a groan. Stark laid his head on Loki's shoulder for a moment, then pushed up on his hands. Loki put a smile on his face as Stark turned his head to look at him.

“OK?” Stark asked, and of course Loki nodded.

“Yes master,” he replied, still pinned under Stark’s weight, legs spread. He forced his muscles to relax, to mimic Stark's post climax relaxation. He doubted it would be convincing unless Stark wanted to  be convinced .

Stark pushed himself up, climbed off of Loki and pulled his clothes back on. Loki rolled over and pushed himself off the bed. He knelt on the soft carpet. Slaves were not allowed to lounge on their master’s furniture after their purpose  was served  .  Stark strolled over and nudged Loki's knees apart with his foot, showing off the cage gleaming between his thighs .

“Don’t tell anyone about this.” Stark ordered, “This is  just  between us.”

“Yes master,” Loki replied. Who would he tell? Even Thor, he could not tell that he had resigned himself, embraced life as a mortal’s bed-warmer.  He was unresistant, he offered his body  eagerly  for use, in exchange for some small comforts that he could  easily  survive without  . No, he would not share that with Thor, not with anyone. Anyone with any pride or strength of character would not have submitted so  easily .

Loki had no strength left, no pride. All he wanted was to survive, to not  be hurt , and to earn what protection he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I have ideas for this plot...I am just enjoying their isolation in the tower and how it's twisting them both up... Thanks for sticking with this fic and commenting and keeping me going with your support!


	22. Fetch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little interlude, mainly in honor of this lovely art!  
> https://lokiofasgaaaard.tumblr.com/post/171493901430/a-more-elaborate-scetch-for-the-absolutely-nice
> 
> I mean, you can't see a sketch of Loki on a leash drawn specifically for your fic and then NOT write about, right?

A person could get used to anything. After a few weeks, Loki’s biggest problem with his arrangement with Stark was that it gave him too much time to think. Life became routine, and Stark was satisfied with very little from Loki. Loki spent at most one hour of his time every day sucking his master off or presenting his ass to be fucked. Friday kept him busy with light housework for the rest of the time. Stark did not allow him in the lab, and Loki was happy to stay away. The ever present fear began to drain away. Stark did not hurt him, and his desires were easy enough to satisfy. When he was inclined to be more adventurous, he had Loki bathe and massage him, or attached a leash to Loki's collar and ‘trained’ him. The latter was rather more humiliating than Loki cared for, but he swallowed his pride and played along as best he could.

Stark never removed the golden cage, and Loki grew accustomed to it. It pleased his master and so he did not resent it too much. It was not as though he had any desire to use that particular body part, so all it was was a constant reminder of his situation.

Stark was often distracted. He spent all hours in the lab and came back to the penthouse only to eat, watch the news broadcasts and have Loki serve him. As the days went by, he watched more and more of the news shows, flicking between the channels and frowning. His name came up every few days. Loki pieced together that Stark was in conflict with the government, or perhaps with several governments. Most likely because they were still not heeding his warnings of the imminent threat to their realm.

It must have been Sunday, because Stark had ended his work day early. He was eating takeout food on the couch, watching the large screen. Loki lay on the rug, the leash attached to his collar held loosely in Stark’s hand. Stark had not wanted to play with him, just to have him lie down at his feet, which Loki was pleased enough to do. It was preferable to 'fetch' and 'heel' and the other humiliating tricks Stark enjoying making him perform. Stark even gave him little treats when he did well, which made Loki flush with shame, as much as the taste made him crave more of them. Dark chocolate covered espresso beans. Stark ate them himself, and fed Loki from the same container.

Loki was not paying attention to the screen, instead he was considering his situation. He had been Hreidmar's slave, and he still was Stark's. Stark certainly did not entertain any notion of equality with him. Stark expected his obedience and compliance, and Loki ensured he got it. However, Stark treated him well. He had every comfort, more than had any right to expect from his station. He had a room, bed, clothes, good food. All things he had been deprived of for years. All he had to do to keep it, was to perform this role, to submit to Stark.

If he did not, Stark could replace the binding at any time. He had left it lifted, but present in Loki’s mind. If Loki did not conform to expectations, would Stark hesitate to force him by replacing the binding? Or would he punish him in other ways, withdraw his food, take away his bed, beat him as he had done before? He had every right to discipline his slave however he chose.

But that was not Loki's only concern. In his heart Loki knew he was not accepting his role merely for his daily comforts, although after so long without them he did not deny that it was important to him now to have them. There was a threat out there, and Stark was one of very few who were taking it seriously. He was one of even fewer who were building the capacity to counter it. If Loki did what Stark wanted, performed well, pleased his master, he may earn some protection from that threat. Protection that he could not hope to get from anywhere else. Even Thor had admitted that he could not protect him from his own court.

Loki felt a tug on his leash, interrupting his thoughts. He knew what was required. He got up on his knees and allowed Stark to pull the leash to settle him between his master’s spread thighs.

“Good boy,” Stark said, and stroked his hair as he unbuttoned his pants. Loki bent his head and got to work. He knew what Stark liked, and if he did it well he could expect to counter the taste with a chocolate espresso bean and a sip of liquor. Maybe he could earn another pat on the head, Loki told himself bitterly, like the well trained dog he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you guys! Thanks for all your support, it really means a lot to me.


	23. Immediately

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, had a few things going on with my family, been a little bit of a crazy week! I figure better a short chapter than no chapter, right? Thanks for your comments and support, it really helps and keep me motivated to keep writing and sharing with you all! **Giant hugs**

Loki had not seen Stark for that past day. He had muttered something about being  _ close to figuring it out  _ and disappeared back to the lab after lunch the previous day. Loki busied himself with his other duties, and tried not to think too much.

Loki was cleaning the kitchen when Friday’s voice rang out, “Loki, you are required immediately in the lab.  _ Immediately. _ ”

Startled, Loki stood holding his cleaning rag and spray bottle. The elevator dinged and the door opened.

“ _ Immediately. _ ” Friday repeated, her usual calm tone overlaid with urgency.

Loki hurried into the elevator, “Friday, is something wrong?” His heart rate was increasing and he took a deep breath to calm himself. Anything unusual or outside of routine was rarely good news for someone in his situation.

“Mr Stark needs assistance.” The elevator deposited Loki outside the lab doors, which were already opening. Loki entered, uncertainly.

“Master?” he called, “You wished to see me?”

Loki did not want Stark to accuse him of trespassing in the lab. That would undoubtedly be a punishable offense, but Friday urged him on. A few paces in, Loki stopped and stared around the large space. In the past weeks, the lab had been transformed. It was filled with hybrids of Midgardian and Chitauri technology. Every surface was covered with humming creations, all interconnected with glowing wires. Loki carefully navigated through without touching anything.

As he rounded the bank of scanners Loki saw Stark’s foot, twitching. Stark was laid out on the floor, unconscious, his whole body vibrating with muscle spasms. His eyes were wide and staring. Loki fell to the floor beside him. “Master?” He said, cautiously touching Stark’s shoulder. No response. Loki checked him over, looking for the cause of his seizure. He could not find anything wrong, not that he was an expert on Midgardian medicine.

There was a metal case on the floor by Stark. Loki remembered it from his first days in the tower. Stark had showed him that case, and told him that it was a special acquisition. Loki flipped it open. It was filled with dense grey foam, a small indentation in the center hollowed out to hold whatever precious cargo had been there. Whatever had been there wasn't there anymore.

Loki found it behind Stark’s ear. A Chitauri device he had not seen before, as big as his thumb. Cautiously, Loki reached out to touch it. His fingers slid off the surface, repelled by an unseen force. He shuddered, the device had sunk a few millimeters into Stark’s skin. Loki turned his head away, nauseated.

“Remove it.” Friday ordered. Her calm voice had not changed, but Loki could hear an edge to it.

Loki grabbed a heavy leather glove from the welding table and pulled it on. He gently turned Stark's head to show more of the device. He tried again and again to grip it with the glove but his fingers could not close on it. It was friction-less, as though it was not there, although he could clearly see it embedded in his master’s flesh like a malevolent toad.

“I can’t!” Loki gasped, “I can’t!”

“Try again.”

“I can’t!” Loki repeated, “I can’t even touch it!” Loki tried again but still could not get a grip.

He knelt at his master’s side. What to do? Stark was alive, he was certain of that. The binding would have broken if he was not, rendering Loki catatonic, as he had been when Thor had slain Hreidmar.

“Friday?” he ventured, his voice quiet.

There was a long pause, eventually Friday confessed, “This situation is outside my operating parameters. I have comprehensive emergency protocols, however Mr Stark gave strict instructions not to reveal the Chitauri technology without his permission. He also told me not to reveal your presence here. I can’t override.”

Loki sat back on his heels. Friday could not summon help. Loki was trapped in the tower with the unconscious Stark.

“How long has he been been like this?”

“Four minutes, and eleven seconds.”

Loki studied Stark. His breathing was even, his skin was pale and clammy, and his open eyes were unfocused. The skin around the metal implants was sore and inflamed, but he had no other Chitauri devices attached. Perhaps he had been using them to study this new device, and them removed them to try it out? Loki cursed Stark for his arrogance in thinking to control such artifacts, and cursed himself for not telling him their true nature. A small voice in his head reminded him that he  _ had _ told him, but Stark had accused him of lying and had punished him. Loki pushed that away. It was irrelevant now.

The device behind Stark's ear sparked, and Loki shoved himself backwards and away. Stark was still trembling unconsciously, his muscles clenching and releasing repeatedly. The device pulsed several times, a sickly red light glowing and receding. On the third pulse, the light steadied and grew stronger. Stark’s convulsions stopped and he blinked. A strange smile spread across his face, and he sat up. Loki held his breath, chills were racing across his skin. Something was wrong, but he didn’t know what.

Stark’s hand shot out and grabbed Loki’s collar, pulling him closer and making him face him. Loki shuddered, he had never before seen that expression of arrogance and delight combined on Stark’s face. But he  _ had _ seen that expression before, on a different face, years ago.

“Ah.” The voice came from Stark's mouth, but it was different. Colder, and deeper. “Ah. How amusing. The little Jotun.”

Loki’s blood froze in his veins. He knew that voice. It could not be. It was impossible! But it was true. However he had done it, his worst nightmare was here.

Thanos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out these amazing arts by https://lokiofasgaaaard.tumblr.com/ - please like and reblog them and support your local fanartists!
> 
> https://lokiofasgaaaard.tumblr.com/post/171631058205/loki-stilled-his-hands-grasping-them-together  
> https://lokiofasgaaaard.tumblr.com/post/171493901430/a-more-elaborate-scetch-for-the-absolutely-nice  
> https://lokiofasgaaaard.tumblr.com/post/171321049770/a-quick-scetch-for-the-heartbreaking-good-story


	24. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might be expecting, this is a Dark Chapter.
> 
> I can't get the tags to update, when it's working I will update with:  
> \- Threats of bodily mutilation, verbal abuse, slut shaming

Loki jerked back, his heels scrambling on the concrete floor. The hand gripping his collar did not move a single inch.

“ _Friday!_ ” Loki’s desperate call went unanswered, except by a low chuckle from Stark’s mouth. His lips twisted in a way he had never before seen on Stark’s face. Loki’s vision narrowed, his surroundings, the lab, Stark’s machines, all vanished. All he could see was that face. That sneer looking down at him, that same expression he had fervently hoped never to see again. Thanos was _here_ , he was here and Loki was held in his grip.

He was pulled closer, fighting uselessly as he went. A child may as well have fought a warrior for all the good it did him. He was dragged into Stark’s lap, one arm around his hips holding him in place, the other tight on his collar. He tried not to touch any part of the creature holding him. It may look like Stark, but he knew it was not. He tried to pull away, to gain even an inch of space between his body and his captor.

“Be still.”

That voice, deep and cold. It washed through his mind, bringing back memories of pain and despair. Helpless, Loki went limp in his grip. He turned his face away, closed his eyes, as though he could make this nightmare not be happening.

Loki shuddered and twisted as Stark's tongue licked a slow line up his throat, his captor’s breath hot on his skin, that deep voice now a growl in his ear.

“Did you think you had escaped my reach, little one? You were warned of the consequences of failure.”

Loki kept his eyes clenched shut. He could not stop shaking, trying to block out the sensation of that warm tongue lapping at his throat, lingering on his fluttering pulse.

“I have enjoyed watching this mortal make you into a whore. It took very little persuasion on my part. He already knew you had no other worth. I am a disappointed that he was satisfied with so little. The Nidavellir were more inventive, were they not?”

Loki forced himself to nod. It was true, and there was no option but to agree. Loki gasped as he shirt was ripped from his body, shreds of fabric clinging to his arms. Chills swept over his exposed skin. There was nothing he could do, Stark was too strong for him to squirm away. The binding would not allow him to actually strike at his master, even if he dared. He was shoved onto the floor, on his back, and his pants likewise ripped off. He was dragged back by his ankle when he tried to scramble away. The controlling grip on his collar returned, shaking him like a doll. Stark climbed on top of him, pinning him down.

“Little Jotun,” he said mockingly, through Stark's mouth, “Your true master has returned.” Loki dared to look up. Stark’s face was transformed. Not only the red glow behind his ear, but his eyes were narrowed, chin lifted, his face a picture of arrogance and triumph. “You need a reminder of your place.”

A hand gripped the golden cage that still locked Loki’s cock and balls. Loki froze, motionless, not even breathing. He was at his master's mercy, and his master had very little of that.

“I like this," The deep voice pondered, "Although easier just to use a hot knife, hmm?”

Loki was flipped over onto his stomach, flat on the concrete floor, legs spread. One heavy hand on his back kept him down. Loki was shaking hard, it would be worse if he resisted, but he could not stop himself. The threat was still ringing in his ears. He had no doubt a hot knife would be procured very quickly if he did not behave. He swallowed hard, trying to control his nausea at the thought.

Loki's legs were shoved wider. “So this is what they use you for now. Pathetic. Do you still cry, or have you learned to like it?”

Hands gripped Loki’s hips, pulled him up and without pause, Stark’s thick cock began to shove inside. Loki breathed. He could handle this. His master had him almost every day, this was the same, the same. He had to breathe and let it happen. But it was not the same. The harsh grip on his hips, the lack of preparation, that deep voice mocking him as he squirmed and struggled until he was firmly, inexorably impaled.

“Little Jotun, you should see yourself. All Asgard should see you now, speared on my cock. Your mighty brother would never submit to such a thing. He would rather die. Not you. This is what you were made for, you take it like the little whore you are. Your ass was made to be fucked. I’ll keep you for my generals to use. No wonder Odin sold you. He knew. I felt his gaze in the void, he knew what you did to save your miserable life. Bent over and spread your legs for anyone who wanted you. That's why he would not have you back in the realm eternal, you pathetic, worthless Jotun slut!”

Loki could deal with pain. The burn and drag of the cock working in and out of his body. It was the stream of abuse broke him. His own fears pulled out of his head and played back to him. That Odin had known of what he suffered, but had cast him out regardless. That he should have chased death rather than submit to this life. That he was unworthy. He wrapped his arms around his head, let his body be used as his master pleased. Silent tears spilled over his cheeks.

When it was over, Loki was left crumpled on the floor, leaking his master’s seed from his abused body, crying silently. Loki did not even try to hide his tears. There was nothing he could do. Thanos was here, it would not be long before he summoned his forces, his physical form, and laid waste to this world. Any hope Loki had of safety or protection was gone. His only hope was to die quickly, but even that was a vain hope. He knew his fate would come to him slowly, unfolding a worse horror every day.

A whistle, then, “Here, little Jotun.”

Loki raised his head. His master was at the back of the lab, where the small living area was. Painfully, Loki pushed himself to his hands and knees and crawled. He knew better than to get to his feet before his master. The familiar bench had been dragged aside and the heavy cuffs were in Stark’s hand. Loki made himself keep moving. It would do no good to resist, it never had. It would only hurt more.

Loki’s wrists were cuffed to the bolt in the floor. With a last patronizing ruffle of his hair, he was left there, naked and used. Loki shuffled as much of his body as he could under the worktable. Not that it gave him the slightest protection, of course. But it was all he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are looking bad for Loki and Tony! Stay tuned for next chapter!


	25. Pizza

Loki huddled under the table for hours, his face hidden in his arms. His ear tracked every movement around the lab, footsteps, machinery moving, keys tapping. The sharp movements, so unlike Stark’s usual casual stroll, kept him on edge. He could only imagine the worst. Thanos using Stark’s equipment to open a portal to the void to bring through his physical form and his armies. When that happened, Midgard, caught utterly unaware, was doomed.

Loki had been a fool to think that the mortal Stark could protect him. Stark had been dancing to Thanos’ tune from the beginning. Since he had been working with the Chitauri artifacts, Thanos had been in his head, manipulating him. Without such influence, Stark may have treated Loki differently. He may not have used the Chitauri devices so recklessly. Loki spared a moment’s pity for Stark. He had only tried to protect his realm. He was one of the few Midgardians who even understood the threat. All it had got him was a lonely, isolated life in this tower, his mind twisted by an ancient, malevolent being. Now, who knew where he was, perhaps dead already, his body worn like a puppet by Thanos. That was unlikely, Thanos would not care to inhabit some dead thing. Probably he was unconscious, stuffed into some dream state where he could not escape.

A satisfied grunt, and all the machines in the lab turned on and started humming. Footsteps approached and Loki panicked. Should be feign sleep? He immediately dismissed that ideas as ridiculous. Something a child would attempt against imaginary monsters. This monster was all too real, whether Loki closed his eyes or not. A foot pressed against his back. Loki gulped a short breath and rolled flat on his belly, face to the floor. Thanos liked a convincing show of submission, and Loki had enough survival instinct to give him one.

“Little Jotun,” A low growl, through Stark’s mouth. “This mortal body requires sustenance. Where is the food?”

Loki’s mind raced. There were fruit drinks in the refrigerator not ten feet from where he lay. Stark survived on those and little else for days at a time. However, there was a kitchen upstairs. If Loki could get out of sight, perhaps he could do something to help himself.

He took a shallow breath, the foot on his back pressing the air from his lungs. “There is food in the living quarters upstairs, master. I will fetch some for you, if you wish.”

The foot pressed down harder. “You must think me a fool. Shall I send you out of my sight, so soon after you fall back into my hands? I think not.”

Stark’s hand picked up the remote control from a tabletop, released Loki’s cuffs and tossed the device back on the cluttered surface. Loki yelped when a hand fisted in his hair and yanked him up from the floor.

“You will prepare food for me.” Loki's hands were cuffed in front of him and he was pulled towards the elevator.

A soft whirr caught Loki’s attention. In the corner of the room, under a table, was the robot that had bought Loki the healing gel, and the bag of clothes. It bumped into life, it’s claw seeming to look around the room. When Loki had been in the lab before, the machine was often in the background. It trundled around, picked things up from the floor, rearranged them, and put them back on the floor. Occasionally it would hand something to Stark, who would pat it’s ‘head’ and send it on it’s way. Now, it seemed to have a purpose. The machine was scooting up and down the aisles between the tables, it’s claw moving from side to side, searching.

The elevator doors closed, cutting off his view. Loki stayed on the floor, the enclosed space entirely too close for comfort.

Loki was shoved towards the kitchen. His master took a comfortable seat overlooking the penthouse and the unwitting city outside. Loki was still only wearing the ripped shreds of his clothing, but modesty and dignity were far from his mind. He had no idea how to cook Midgardian food. Stark had never had him do it, usually food was delivered to the penthouse, hot and ready cooked. Loki scoured the refrigerator, hoping for leftovers he could heat and make presentable. There were none. The refrigerator was almost bare. Drinks and sauces, yes, actual food, no. He checked the freezer. Pizza? Would he dare serve cheese pizza to the Mad Titan? Well there wasn’t anything else, it was that or nothing. Knowing Stark, it was at least excellent quality pizza. He could pass it off as Midgardian specialty. Hands shaking, he heated up the oven. While it was heating he got out plates and napkins and set the table for one. He opened wine and polished a glass. He had no doubt how this evening was going to end for him, but he could at least try to put off the inevitable pain. His cuffed hands hampered his every movement, but he did his best and did not complain.

Loki served the pizza and was almost dizzy with relief when it was well received. Perhaps Stark’s taste buds were still in good order, despite the interloper in his body. At his master's gesture, Loki crawled under the table and used his mouth and hands to bring him to a leisurely climax as he ate. Loki was ignored during and after the act. He knelt silently under the table until his master was done eating and drinking, the now familiar salty taste lingering on his tongue. Minutes ticked by and Loki's dread increased. What would come next? If, as he suspected, the work was done in the lab, there was nothing for the creature possessing Stark’s body to do but entertain himself until his portal opened. Loki swallowed hard and his belly turned over.

He was likely to be the one providing the entertainment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo.....I could do the next chapter of Loki being used as 'entertainment' or I could gloss over it and move on with the plot...do you all want to see some more Loki getting hurt? Or shall I keep things moving?


	26. Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Voting was evenly split pretty much so I decided to keep going with the plot. There are some hints of Thanos' evening entertainment but nothing graphic. Hope it's not disappointing for those who wanted to see Loki get hurt some more, I'm sure there's going to be more opportunities for that before the story ends!

Thanos did not control the binding.

The realization hit Loki and stole his breath. He had been obeying orders, but the familiar ‘push’ from the binding was gone. It had taken him so long to notice, so accustomed was he to mindless obedience. Loki cautiously explored the binding. It hovered over his mind, familiar now after weeks unchanged. Stark still held his leash, but the binding did not recognize the entity inhabiting Stark’s body as Loki’s master. Loki had not yet displayed the slightest hesitation to obey Thanos. That must be why he had not realized that the binding was not responsive to him. He had not had to use it. Loki had not even attempted to resist.

Loki lay still, eyes wide in the dark. He was in Stark’s bed, Thanos snoring beside him. Thanos was unused to a mortal body, and had slipped into sleep not long after he was done amusing himself with Loki. Loki would have a deep, dark bruise around his throat in the shape of Tony Stark’s hand, but that was light punishment compared to what Thanos was capable of. He was sore and bruised, choked and well-fucked, but that was hardly anything to cry about.

A soft squeak through the open door got his attention. Without moving his head, Loki raised his eyes to the gloomy hallway. An angular shape rolled into view. The glowing red artifact behind Stark's ear lit the room with a dim glow, enough to see the outline in the doorway. It was the robot from the lab. Loki squinted, cursing the low light. One of the most dangerous entities in the realms was snoring directly behind him. Loki was afraid to move a single muscle in case he woke and decided to continue his games. He willed the robot to move along, do whatever random errand it had set itself and not wake the creature in the bed with him

Loki went back to his circling thoughts. Even without controlling the binding, Thanos controlled the tower, controlled Friday. Loki was hardly better off than he had been before the realization. Even if he tried to get away, where could Loki run to? Nowhere, without being recognized as a war-criminal and dangerous villain. Even if he could tell his story, no one would believe that the great hero of Midgard, Antony Stark, was possessed by an ancient, malevolent Titan. The idea very idea was absurd. If he somehow slipped away, naked and caged and cuffed, he would be captured and returned to Thanos hands. His punishment then would be unmerciful.

Another thought crept into his mind, like dark water. Maybe he could not escape, but if could get out onto the balcony, he could jump. He could be free of this life, be free of the pain and humiliation and endless despair of it.

Loki put that thought out of his mind. He may be the lowliest creature on his realm, a slave, a whore, little more than a beaten dog, but he was not about to take that final step, to be alone forever in the afterlife, never to enter the halls of Valhalla. As small a chance as he might have for that now, it was still a chance. No, he would not do such a thing. If Thanos was coming, better that he died fighting. He shivered, knowing that to be allowed to die fighting was a mercy that Thanos was unlikely to bestow on him.

The robot was still in the doorway. Loki glared at it. It was waving it’s ‘head’ back and forth. Was it trying to get his attention? Loki raised one hand, careful not to move or jostle the bed. He flicked his wrist to tell the robot to go away. The robot stopped and made a mimic ‘up and down’ motion. It dropped something small on the floor with a soft thunk, and lowered it head to touch it.

Loki froze, breathless, when his cuffs clicked and released. The robot had bought the remote control! Loki's first thought was to click the cuffs back around his wrists and pretend it never happened. His hand was already moving to do so when he stopped himself. What had he just been thinking, about fighting and earning a place in Valhalla? Was this his chance? He could be reunited with his brother in the afterlife, rather than be cast out in the wastes of Hel. Better to try, than to lay here, afraid. To wait for Thanos to awake and make use of him, amuse himself with Loki's pain and submission.

His resolve firming, Loki gently eased the cuffs off. The snoring behind him continued. Thanos had drunk the bottle of wine that Loki had opened, and several more glasses of Stark’s liquor. Perhaps he had not understood the limitations of a mortal body. Loki could only hope that was true. Inch by inch, Loki rolled off the bed, landing on the plush carpet as softly and silently as he could. He held his breath and counted to twenty. There was no change in the sounds from the bed. The robot was also perfectly still and silent. Loki stood, each movement as slow and careful as he could make it. His abused throat made his breath loud in his ears, his heart was pounding hard enough to wake the dead. His palms were sticky as he gently lifted the heavy cuffs.

Did he dare do this? He weighed the cuffs in his hand. Yes, he did. He had had enough of this life. He was going to end it one way or another. He was done with bending over, done with his body being used, done with the pain, the humiliation, done with pushing it all out of his mind and telling himself it could be worse. He had been afraid for so long, afraid of pain, punishment, afraid of making his situation worse. Well, now it could not get worse. He was at the bottom, and the only way was up. He leaned over, and in one smooth motion clicked one cuff around Stark's wrist, and the other around the sturdy bedpost.

Without waiting, he turned and fled the bedroom, the robot following behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your support, as always!


	27. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey a surprise quick chapter! Could not resist!

They ran to the lab. Loki did not know where else to go. He pulled the heavy glass door closed, but the lock was electronic, dead and lifeless. He dragged a heavy workbench across the door instead, and piled it up with equipment. The lab was quiet, machines humming, small whirrs and beeps. There was no noise from upstairs. Loki could only hope Thanos still slept. Even that blessing would not last long. He would be found here, without a doubt. Thanos may not yet control the binding, but he could easily do so with the same Chitauri artifacts that Stark had used. More easily, in fact, as Thanos was well versed in their use.

The robot had maneuvered itself back to it’s charging station under a table, and was motionless. If a robot could look innocent, this one did. Loki shook his head, he may be foolish to wish for help from a robot, but it was the only help he had. He did not spare time to wonder why it had freed him. The robot seemed to do what it wanted most of the time.

Loki looked around the lab, seeing the changes that Thanos had wrought. Where Stark had combined the Chitauri and Midgardian technology, Thanos had stripped out the Midgardian elements and left only the Chitauri. One table was weighted down with a humming, buzzing conglomerate of devices that Loki feared was the portal device. He would have to destroy it. But once he did, Thanos would know of it, through the device attached to Stark’s body. He would have to destroy it in a way that could not be repaired. He had so little time. Loki longed for his powers, he could blast that cursed device to a thousand pieces with one spell. But all his magic was still firmly suppressed by the binding.

Loki held his breath. The binding. Stark had used the Chitauri devices to lift the binding. The devices he had used were here somewhere, if Thanos had not taken them for his portal machine. Could Loki use them himself? Somehow free himself? With his powers, he may not be able to stand against Thanos in all his power, but he would at least stand a chance against Thanos in a mortal body. Frantically, Loki began to search for the wristband and headband that Stark had used. Hoping to find them but also terrified to do so, because he would then have to put them on his body and try to release himself.

He found the wrist band, tossed to the floor. Perhaps Thanos saw no purpose in it, as Stark had altered it to his own needs. Loki gulped, breathed, and slipped it over his wrist. There was no need to hesitate, he was already certain he would not be leaving this lab in one piece, if he was even alive. The wristband had been a control device, allowing Stark to use gestures to manipulate what the headband displayed on the glass screen. Loki needed both devices. He searched through the cast-offs, but didn’t see it. Running out of time, he turned to the main tangle of technology on the workbench. Immediately he saw it, embedded in the center. He would have to break the machine to get it, and that would alert Thanos. Then he would only have however long it took Thanos to free himself from the cuff and break open the door to the lab. He had no idea if that was enough time.

He had seen Stark control the binding using the device. The flower of the binding, blooming and closing, was burned into Loki's memory. His own freedom and servitude, controlled so easily, so lightly. As though it were nothing. He knew it could be done. Stark had used metal studs to connect the device to his body. Loki did not have any such thing, but he had seen the Chitauri use these devices from skin contact alone. He would have to gamble. He had already come too far, and there was no going back. If he could not free himself, he would at least have destroyed the machine.

He took a deep breath, allowed himself one moment’s pause, then picked up a wrench and attacked the machine. He pulled and pried and twisted to get to the piece he needed. A faint roar floated through the glass, and he worked faster. Thanos knew what he was doing. He plucked out the piece he needed, and smashed the rest a few more times for good measure. He sat on the floor, surrounded by broken parts. The Chitauri band around his wrist, Nidavellir collar around his neck, Midgardian golden cage locked around his cock and balls. The technology of three realms, controlling and caging him, who was meant to be free, meant to be fire and trickery. Well no more. He would end this. He held the headband up to his temples. The small glass screen reflected the light from the elevator as the doors opened, and Thanos charged out, roaring.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this chapter was really hard for me to get through! I need to work on my 'action scene writing' I guess. I hope it's OK, I am not super pleased with it but I want to get it out there and move on with the story. Thanks for sticking with me and supporting me!

Thanos hammered on the glass door, his face twisted with inhuman rage. Blood smeared over the glass, Stark's right hand was crushed, the thumb bent back at a sickening angle. Thanos must have broken it to free himself from the cuffs. He had no care for the mortal body he was using, as little as he had care for Loki's body when he was using him. Despite his fury and disregard for the body he inhabited, he could not open the door with the heavy table shoved against it. Thanos cursed and screamed and threw his weight against the door over and over, rocking the table but only moving it a fraction.

Loki shook himself. He could not sit here and watch, he had to act before he ran out of time. Loki focused on the headband, the small glass screen in front of his eye. Looking through the glass, the lab and everything in it was ringed by light, glowing, moving, sharp lines and fuzzy auras, everything showing its energy all at once. He glanced at the creature hammering on the door. Stark’s body was outlined in a dark red inverted glow, as though a hole in space surrounded him. The dark energy squirmed and twisted around him, wrapped like greedy tentacles. Loki looked away. He needed to focus, to find the binding and release it before Thanos used it to crush him like a bug.

How did Stark cope with the sheer volume of information on the headband mounted screen? The entire room was lit up, swathes of energy covering everything. Loki searched for the complex flower of the binding, desperate to release himself and his magic from the past four years of suppression. If Thanos got through the door before he could release himself, Loki would most likely meet his end in the lab, quickly if he was lucky.

Loki breathed and centered himself. He ignored the pounding on the door and the gradual, inexorable shifting of the piled up table. It was moving a fraction of an inch with each frenzied hit. It would not hold for long. Gently, Loki waved the hand wearing the wristband. The headband showed a glow surrounding that hand. As Loki touched the spectral energy it reacted, moving and growing in complexity until he turned his attention elsewhere. Loki looked down at himself, the closed loop of the binding was encircling him. Ribbons of lights looped around him, centered on the collar around his neck. He touched it, trying to encourage it to bloom as Stark had done. The Nidavellir energy did not react as the Midgardian energy had done. It resisted the touch and drifted away. Loki tried again, focused on the binding. The heavy table shifted and a cascade of equipment fell onto the floor with a crash. Loki shuddered along with it. He had seconds left, could he unwind the binding in that time? Loki tried again to connect with the energy of the binding.

The table shoved back enough to let Stark’s arm through the door. He reached around and swept as much of the heavy equipment off the table as he could, pushing the door wider. Loki was not going to make it. He scrambled to his feet, clutching the Chitauri headband in his hand. He would go down fighting. That is all he could do, try to provoke Thanos to kill him quickly. Better that than to be his plaything and his thrall.

“Jotun filth!” Thanos spat, as he finally opened the door enough to push into the room. “This is your gratitude for my mercy?” Thanos grabbed the wrench Loki had used to smash the portal machine. Loki backed away but there was nowhere to go. Thanos swung the wrench and as though in slow motion Loki held up his arm to protect his head . The wrench connected with his forearm and shattered the bone, agony radiating through his body. Loki scrambled away, nausea washing through him. He had one chance, only one, or he would be dead, beaten to death with the wrench in this mortal’s hands. Despite four years of torment, Loki had a thousand years of training in hand to hand combat and other martial arts. He feinted towards his injured side, then dodged back and brought up the Chitauri headband, still clutched in his uninjured hand. Stark recovered fast, almost too fast, and swung again. As the heavy metal wrench connected with Loki’s head, the point of the Chitauri device in his hand connected with the ugly red glow behind Stark's ear. The last thing Loki saw, were red sparks.

****

He wasn’t dead.

The first realization was enough to occupy his mind for a while. He was alive. He didn’t want to open his eyes, they were so heavy, and opening them could not bring anything good. It would draw attention. Why didn’t he want attention? It was hard to remember. There was so much pain, his head swam with it and he could not stay awake.

The next time he woke up, the pain was lessened. Still intense in his head and his arm, but not overwhelming. It was not as though he was unused to pain, after all. The room he was in was silent. No doubt he had been left somewhere to recover from whatever injuries he had sustained. He allowed himself to drift off again.

“Hey, are you awake?”

Loki could not suppress his flinch at the voice. Pretending to be asleep would only led to punishment, so he opened his eyes. He was in his room in Stark tower. He looked towards the door, without moving his aching head. Lingering in the doorway, as though afraid to enter, was his master. Loki remembered then what had happened. Bandages covered the area behind Stark's ear where the device had been, and Thanos was gone. Stark's face was tired and drawn, but the expression was his own.

Loki had been asked a question, but he struggled to come up with a reply, or even remember the question, and his head hurt so badly. A tear trickled down his face, and he could not lift his arm to wipe it away.

“Hey, um, I’m not…you’re safe now.” Stark’s word floated over to Loki’s mind, but he could hardly understand. He was, he supposed, not immediately in danger of being beaten to death with a wrench, and that could be considered ‘safe’. He nodded. It was always better to agree.

Stark stepped into the room. He picked up a cup with a straw from Loki’s bedside in his left hand. His right hand was heavily bandaged, hanging awkwardly by his side. “Can you try and drink something? You’ve been out for nearly 24 hours.” Stark held the straw to Loki’s mouth and he obediently sucked on it, taking a few swallows of cool water before sagging exhausted back to the bed.

“OK, I’m going to warm up some soup, if you think you could eat that?”

Through his pounding head, Loki recalling the only other time his master had given him soup. When he had passed out in the laundry room, and then provoked his punishment by asking too many questions. Loki nodded, thinking if he tried to speak he might throw up. Thankfully, Stark left the room and Loki drifted back into sleep.

It was night when he opened his eyes again. The pain in his arm and head was still throbbing, but the dimness of the room helped. Loki stared up at the ceiling, trying to understand what had happened. He was alive, Stark was alive, and Thanos was gone. He tried to turn his head but a wave of pain washed through him and he groaned at the movement.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Stark’s voice came from the darkness. 

It was already too late to pretend to be asleep, so Loki worked his dry mouth for a moment and croaked, “Yes, master.”

Stark huffed. “You don’t have to call me that.” he said. His voice was tired, quiet. Entirely unlike his usual confident tone.

Loki did not know how to reply to that. The binding enforced a respectful form of address and his head ached far too much for him to think of anything other than ‘master’. Stark offered him the water. Loki gratefully propped himself up and drank from the straw, the water cool and refreshing on his parched throat.

“How do you feel?” Stark asked.

Loki knew the correct answer to that. No matter how he felt there was no excuse for not performing his duties. “I am well enough, Master,” he replied.

Stark huffed again and sat back down in the easy chair next to Loki’s bed. It had not been there before, he must have dragged it in to watch over Loki while he slept. Loki didn’t know why he would do that, he had surveillance in his room and Stark could watch him whenever he wanted from any of his numerous screens.

Loki’s head swam, it hurt so much. He gingerly touched the side of his head, feeling the bandage covering one side. His right arm was in a rigid cast, covering half his hand and extending up to his elbow. Loki stared at the dim ceiling, confused. He could not remember what had happened in the lab. He must have broken the connection to Thanos somehow. Stark must have done the rest.

“Loki?” Loki realized Stark was speaking, but he could barely focus on his voice. He slowly turned to face him, his outline fuzzy in the dark room. Stark leaned forward, his elbow resting on his knees, head low.

“Loki, I know this is wholly inadequate, but I owe you an apology. I should not have treated you the way I did. I’m sorry. It was wrong.”

Loki shrugged. Stark could treat him as he pleased. Now that Loki was safe from Thanos he found he did not care overly that he was still in Stark’s hands. The collar was still around his neck and the binding still in his mind. No apology was going to change that. Stark had treated his injuries and was seemingly going to let him rest and recover, before resuming his duties. That was greater mercy than anyone of this station had any right to expect.

Loki closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep. His head hurt too much to think any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're on the home stretch, I think poor Loki is going to finally get some comfort after all this hurt! If there's anything you'd like to see just let me know, I may not get it in but I always love to hear your thoughts and ideas. Thanks again for your support for my story!


	29. Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many people want misunderstandings! And I love misunderstandings too, so here you go!

Loki was alone when he awoke again. The sun was up and the pain in his head and arm had receded to a dull, persistent ache. The comfortable chair next to Loki’s bed was unoccupied, and Loki breathed easier knowing that his master was not watching him. Loki rolled to the side and picked up the cup of water by his bed, taking a long drink. He was desperately thirsty, and as the water filled his belly he realized he was hungry too. He tried to recall when he last ate. Thanos had not allowed him any food while he controlled him, and before that...Loki’s memories blurred together. It must have been days.

“Friday?” Loki queried, afraid that his request would be be met by silence.

“Loki.” The calm, musical voice of Friday filled the room, and Loki let out his breath. At least he still had Friday. As much as she was only loyal to Stark, she had showed at least some compassion for his slave. Compassion was one thing, but Loki was well aware that unproductive slaves did not get food. He would not ask Friday for something he knew he did not deserve. He would rather not hear her denial.

“Friday, what are my duties for today?” Loki pushed himself upright in bed and swung his legs over the side, waiting for her response. Loki was wearing unfamiliar soft cotton clothes, Stark must have dressed him while he was unconscious. He did not know how to feel about such intimacy from his master, but he ultimately decided that Stark could do what he wanted, so he resolved not to worry about it.

“You have no assigned duties, Loki.” Friday’s response was delayed, as though she had been conferring before responding. “Mr Stark will be up to speak with you shortly. Please remain in bed.”

Loki swallowed and slowly laid himself back down. He was to remain in bed. He had a very good idea why. Stark had been accustomed to enjoying his services daily. Several times daily, on most days, and Loki had been unconscious for at least a full day. Before that, Stark had not even been present in his body. It was kind of him to allow Loki to rest and recover from his injuries before resuming his duties. Loki could hope to be allowed to lay on his back or his belly while his master used him. He did not think he could support his weight on his hands and knees, with one arm broken, or even use his mouth with any skill. His head ached terribly and the thought of moving make him nauseous.

Only a few minutes of such speculation passed before the door opened and Stark entered. He was carrying a tray which he set on the table next to Loki’s bed. Loki furrowed his brow when he saw what was on it. A plate of food, toast, eggs, and fruit. A glass of juice, a cup of hot tea. Loki had no idea why Stark had brought his breakfast into Loki’s room, unless he was in such a hurry that he was going to eat as Loki served him.

Stark sat in the chair and their eyes met. Loki quickly looked down and waited for some order, at least come indication of what was expected. Nothing came. He was too tired and in too much pain to try and decipher his master’s wishes. Despite what had happened the past few days, Loki had no reason to expect his situation had changed. He had helped Stark cast off the influence of the mad Titan, and he had destroyed the machine that would have opened a portal for his forces, but such things were expected. Slaves were expected to be loyal to their owners, even to lay down their lives for them if required. Loki had not done that, nor even come close. He had acquiesced to every one of Thanos’ commands. He had only resisted when Stark's robot had handed him his chance on a platter. Stark still held his leash, and Loki was grateful that had treated his injuries and allowed him to rest for as long as he had.

Stark pointed at the food. “That’s for you,” he said, as though explaining something painfully obvious.

Loki looked at the tray, then back at Stark. His confusion must have been obvious because Stark sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, leaning back in the chair.

“You do need to eat, Loki, will you try at least?”

Stark picked up the tray and placed it on Loki’s lap, small legs keeping it flat and level on the bed. Loki had no choice but to pick up a piece of toast and eat. Stark watched him, but Loki did not look up. He was eating as he had been told to, did Stark think he needed to supervise him in such a task? Loki recalled his past experience with ‘hunger strike’ as Stark had called it. Perhaps Stark thought he was doing such a thing again. Loki ate the toast and drank the tea, but he could not eat the eggs or drink the sweet, sugary juice. Stark took the tray away before he could apologize for not eating it all. Loki was confused, but the food did make him feel better. He knew he was well enough to perform some light duties for the rest of the day. Friday was good at finding work for him around whatever physical limitations he may have. Should he ask Stark? Friday had already told him he had no duties for the day, but what was he expected to do?

Stark was still looking at him. Loki twisted his hands in his lap and avoided his gaze.

“How are you feeling?” Stark finally asked him a direct question.

“I am well, Master.” Loki immediately replied.

Stark twisted his lips at Loki’s response. He leaned forward in his chair, trying to look into Loki’s face. Loki kept his head down. He was uncertain enough of his position without looking his master directly in the eyes. Without a doubt that would be taken as a disrespectful gesture.

“Loki, do you remember what happened?”

Loki nodded. He remembered. He remembered finding Stark laying on the floor of the lab, the Chitauri device embedded in his skin, and everything that came after. Thanos taking control of Stark's body, his delight at having Loki back under his control. The robot urging him to do his duty and resist, to save his master and his realm from Thanos. Loki had tried to free himself from the binding but had not been able to. So here he was, injured but mostly unharmed. The mortal who owned him seemingly pleased enough with his actions that he had received medical attention and rest. He would resume his duties if Stark would only tell him what they were. Loki could hope that without Thanos influencing his thoughts, Stark may not wish to punish him so severely for his inevitable lapses. Perhaps he would content himself with fucking Loki and stop making him perform for his amusement like an obedient dog. Loki could hope for such things, but it was not up to him. Stark was kind enough to him. Now, coming down from the terror and adrenaline of Thanos' hands around his neck, Loki was wise enough to be grateful to this mortal for his kindness.

Stark sighed, looking down as he spoke, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been fucking around with that Chitauri tech. I put you in danger, as well as this planet and everyone on it. And myself. It was stupid. I thought I could control it but it was controlling me. You saved me. And the planet, most likely. So thank you.”

Loki had no response to that. He had done it because he had no other option, other than to accept his own torture and death at Thanos' hands. Perhaps Stark thought he had acted out of his duty, as he should have done, rather than from self preservation.

Loki looked at his hands, fingers twined together in his lap. With the Nidavellir, and Loki could only assume here on Midgard as well, slaves who had performed well were rewarded. Gifts and privileges were generally the currency of choice, but it was not impossible for a slave to be granted freedom for some exceptional act of service. Stark had offered Loki his thanks but not offered him any substantive reward. Loki understood that his acts, while appreciated, were not worthy enough of any particular prize. Or perhaps, the medical treatment and rest he had already received were reward enough for him.

Stark sat in silence for a few more minutes, restless, as though there were more he wanted to say. Loki waited in silence as well. He had not been asked any direct questions, and his head was beginning to throb again. He would not risk speaking up when he could hardly think straight.

“OK, I’ll let you get some rest.” Stark eventually said, standing to leave. “Just tell Friday if there’s anything you need.”

Stark closed the door behind him, taking the food tray away. Loki lay back down with relief. He was more tired that he could expect from the simple act of eating breakfast and a short conversation. His eyes drifted closed. He would just rest for a while, then he would get up and do some work. Even if he had no assigned duties he could still be useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments and support!


	30. Bath

Loki leaned on the bathroom counter. He had made it to the bathroom on his own, he just needed to rest for a moment before he did anything else. It was still light outside. Still time for him to be useful and get some work done, even though he had slept for hours. First he needed to get cleaned up. Stark did not like him in a disheveled state. When Thor had first left him with Stark, his first order had been to bathe and he had even given him clean clothes. Days of restless sleep and pain had left him sweaty and sticky. He could not go out to the penthouse looking like this. If Stark saw him he would not be pleased, and that would not help Loki.

Loki turned the bath taps. He could not shower with his arm in a cast, but he should be able to bathe if he was careful. His head throbbed and was tender to the touch. Maybe he could get away with just rinsing his hair, rather than wash it. Loki maneuvered his shirt off over his cast and dropped the soft, stretchy pants. Steeling himself, he turned to the mirror.

He looked a wreck. His hair was tangled and wild, his eyes sunken and staring. There was a fading bruise around his neck above the collar, Stark’s hand-print from when Thanos had choked him. Fingers and thumb were clearly visible, imprinted on Loki's skin.

The cast hid his arm, but no doubt more cuts and bruises surrounded the broken bone. As Loki examined his sorry state he noticed something missing. The golden cage was no longer locked around his cock and balls. Stark must have removed it. Tentatively, Loki reached his hand down and touched himself. The sensation was foreign to him, no metal between his hand and his cock, just his own tender flesh. There was no pleasure in the touch, it was a physical sensation, like touching his skin anywhere else on his body. Why had Stark removed the cage? Was that Loki’s reward? Or did Stark no longer enjoy it. Perhaps he had something new in store for Loki, when he judged him to be healed enough to serve his master again.

Loki hoped he would not have to wait too long. Useless slaves were not valued slaves, after all.

The bath was full and Loki carefully sat on the edge. He dipped his feet into the warm water, enjoying the blissful sensation. He swished his feet in the water, making eddies and waves in the bath. He startled and nearly fell back from the bath onto the floor when Friday spoke.

“Loki, do you require assistance?”

Loki shook his head emphatically, then regretted it when the movement increased his headache. “No!” he said, “No, thank you, I can manage.” He did not want Stark to find him in his unwashed state. It would not help him in any way to appear too pathetic to even be able to bathe himself. Stark had been patient with him, but surely his patience was close to an end. To prove he was capable, Loki lowered himself into the bath. He could only support his weight on one arm, and it was awkward to keep the cast dry, but he managed. Laying back in the warm water, Loki sighed. He could allow himself to enjoy this for a moment. The tub was not large enough for him to stretch out, but even with his legs bent and his head resting on the rim, he was comforted. Warm and on the way to getting clean.

Loki grabbed the washcloth and rinsed himself off. The days' worth of sweat and grime sluiced off and left him pink and fresh, and much more comfortable. The water was grey and murky when he was done, he had rinsed his hair, even though it made him wince as the water ran over the lump on his head. He did not linger. The water was cooling and not as appealing now he had washed himself in it.

It was hard to get out, but he did not pause to give Friday a chance to offer him assistance again. Loki was not going to be some pathetic broken thing. He could bathe himself, if nothing else.

His head was back to throbbing with pain by the time he had dried off and started to dress. He pulled on underwear and pants, but the idea of pulled a shirt over his aching head was too much. Instead he put on the fluffy robe that Friday had given him. Loki paused, the robe slipped half over his shoulders. It was the robe Friday had given him after Stark had whipped him. Loki made himself acknowledge it, even just in his own mind. It felt important. Stark had whipped him with his belt and Friday had given him a fluffy robe to wear, while he healed from that punishment. Loki rubbed the soft fabric under his fingers. He stood for a while and let the memory come back to him. The sensory memory of the robe triggered his recollection of the fever and pain he had suffered the last time he wore it.

He tried to remember what had happened before the whipping, but the memories were soft and blurred, distorted as if dragged towards a black hole. The black hole was the whipping itself. He could only remember it from a distance. He knew it had happened, but that was all. He had done something wrong to earn such a punishment, but he could not recall now what it was. The only thing that came to him with perfect clarity was laying on the cool tile of the kitchen floor after it was over, with Friday’s calm voice directing him to take pain relieving pills.

Why had Stark punished him so severely? He could not understand it, looking back on it now. Loki’s head was pounding and he could not follow his own thoughts. Friday was Stark's creation. Did that make the robe a gift from Stark? That made even less sense, that he would be punished and then comforted by the same person.

Loki took off the robe and put it back in the closet. It was warm enough in the penthouse anyway. Wearing only the pants, he opened his door and headed for the main living area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, is Loki starting to think for himself again? Still not his usual self, but he's in there somewhere! Thanks so much for all your wonderful comments and support. It means so much to me and is so motivating to keep me working on this fic!


	31. Damage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo...these guys didn't want to resolve things too easily, and this fic was always going to be more hurt than comfort, so, here you go!

“Hey! Why are you up? You should be in bed!” Stark sprang up from his seat on the white couch, alarmed. Loki stopped, hoping he did not sway in place as he stood in the hallway.

“I...you did not instruct me to stay in bed, Master. I am well. I would like to resume my duties.”

Stark stared at Loki, standing with bare feet and bare chest at the entrance to the living area. His expression was unreadable, at least to Loki’s distracted gaze. The living area was a mess. There were open food containers and plates on all the flat surfaces, the couch where Stark was sitting was piled up with blankets. A full, unopened bottle of liquor sat on the coffee table, a glass half-full of melting ice next to it.

“May I tidy the room, Master?” Loki ventured. He was unsure how the penthouse had got into such a state, unless he had been unconscious for longer than he realized.

“You don’t need to do that Loki,” Stark fell back on the couch and scrubbed his hands over his face. “That’s not...you don’t need to do that.” Stark looked as though he would say more, and Loki waited for a moment but he didn’t continue. Loki was having trouble standing. His head was painful and he was starting to see stars dancing through the room. He had been foolish to attempt to work before being fit do do so. Stark would hardly be pleased to have him collapse on his floor.

“Come and sit down.” Stark gestured to the padded chair next to the couch. Loki knew Stark could not intend for Loki to use his chair. He had generously provided a bed for Loki to use, but slaves were not allowed on the furniture. That was universally known. Loki knelt on the rug in front of the chair. That was the proper position. It was safer for him to follow accepted protocol, than to risk punishment over a simple misunderstanding.

Stark blinked at him and frowned. He didn’t comment on his position and Loki was glad he had done the right thing.

“OK. We need to clear a few things up. You’re not a slave. I’m not going to do that. That wasn’t me. Before. I mean, it was me, but it wasn’t  _ me _ . I don’t want any slaves, slavery is bad, you’re not a slave.”

Taken aback, Loki touched the metal collar around his neck. Stark made no sense. The binding sealed Loki's status as a slave, no mere words could undo that.

Stark saw Loki’s gesture, and shrugged his shoulder helplessly. “I should have taken that fucking thing off when you first got here,” he said. “Now...now I don’t even know if I can, anymore.”

Loki gripped the collar with both hands, unconsciously pulling at the metal. Stark could have freed him from this life of servitude, but had chosen not to. He had chosen to keep him bound and use him as his personal servant, his housekeeper, and his whore. And now he claimed those actions were not his own. Loki knew well enough the raw power of Thanos, but he also knew his methods. One of his favored options was to simply encourage someone to act on the desires they already held. Stark could hardly claim to have no responsibility. Loki had been sentenced to this life for his own actions while under Thanos’ influence. He had not been able to deflect blame the way Stark sought to.

Tony was staring at Loki kneeling before him. “Would you sit on the fucking chair?” Tony pointed to the chair behind Loki.

Loki pushed himself up from the floor and perched on the edge of the chair. His broken arm awkward and useless at his side. Loki did not know what to say that would not worsen his situation. He was regretting coming out of his room, Stark seemed as unpredictable as ever. Loki tried to focus. He should not antagonize the person holding his leash. But Stark’s declaration needed to be addressed.

“What am I, Master, if I am not a slave?”

“Don’t call me that,” Stark snapped. Loki cringed. That was an order, and despite the static binding it was not wise to ignore a direct order. Loki wiped the sweaty palm of his hand on his thigh. His cast itched and his head ached. He had been foolish to leave the relative safety of his room, and all he wanted to do was to return there. How to extricate himself from this situation? Perhaps the direct path was best.

“Please may I be excused, Mr Stark?” Friday referred to Stark that way, he could only assume it was respectful enough for him to use as well. He needed to end this encounter before any damage was done.

“No. We need to talk.” Stark said, finger pointed at Loki, pinning him down with his gaze and his with refusal.

Loki did not move from his chair. His vision was blurring at the edges, his head throbbed, his arm ached. And in his gut, an unfamiliar emotion was boiling over. Something he had not allowed himself to feel for years. It had not served him well, but now he could not stop it.

_ Anger. _

He sat upright in his chair. Hands clasped, feet together, back straight.

“What am I then,  _ Mr Stark _ , if I am not a slave?” he repeated his question, his tone mocking, demanding a response. Stark may not wish to be addressed as “master” but he still issued orders as freely as ever, and he still expected Loki’s obedience.

Stark slammed his hand down on his thigh, his fist clenched in frustration. “You’re a prisoner.” he declared.

Loki laughed out loud at that ridiculous statement. “What is the difference?” he asked. “Do prisoners not have to follow orders on this realm? Do prisoners not have to work on this realm? Do prisoners not have to submit to the demands of their  _ jailers  _ on this realm? I know they do on every other cursed realm!”

Stark’s face reddened. He jumped up from his seat on the couch and paced the room, seemingly counting under his breath. “I don’t need this shit from you, Loki! I’m trying here, OK!”

The binding shifted in Loki’s mind, a warning that he ignored. Loki could not stop the words falling from his lips, he had held back for too long. “I apologize  _ Mr Stark.  _ Perhaps I can make it up to you. Would you like me to suck your cock? Or would you prefer to fuck me? Or beat me? Or put a leash on me and make me fetch? Just say the word  _ Mr Stark _ , and I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Will you shut up? How about that? Just shut your goddamn mouth!”

The thread holding back the binding snapped. It slammed back down over Loki, smothering him in the need to obey, to be compliant and pleasing. It was worse than the first time. Worse than when the Nidavellir lord who bought him from the auction block had locked the collar around his neck. Then, he had not known what to expect, he had resisted, fought his servitude. Now, he knew better. The binding could not be broken, and resistance only made it worse. Stark was staring at him, eyes filled with horror and remorse, but Loki could not hold his gaze. He could not speak or do anything but slide off the chair and onto his knees, put his face on the floor and await his master’s judgment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at these amazing new arts from lokiofasgaaaard on Tumblr! Please like/reblog these beautiful pics and support fandom art!
> 
> [Cover](https://lokiofasgaaaard.tumblr.com/post/172657562060/how-did-i-end-with-doing-a-no-one-asked-for-cover)  
> [Chapter 4](https://lokiofasgaaaard.tumblr.com/post/172661654120/ive-illustrated-a-scene-from-the-prince-in-the)
> 
> Also thank you to Linea1 for the info on how to link the art directly! :)
> 
>  


	32. Fate

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Stark cursed repeatedly and uselessly, standing over Loki’s crouched form.

Loki squeezed his eyes shut, tried to slow his panicked breathing. He placed his hands flat on the floor, fingers digging into the deep pile of the soft rug. What would happen to him now? He had been rude and disrespectful, provoking and insulting. A few days past he would have expected to feel Stark's belt again, for such an outburst. Now, he had no idea. Stark was unpredictable, on edge. His mind had been manipulated, his desires twisted and used to ends that he may not have pursued, left to himself. They  _ were _ his desires though, and Loki could not forget that. Such things did not come from nowhere.

“Mr Stark, may I…” Friday’s gentle voice filled the room, but Stark cut her off.

“Mute,” he said, and she did.

Stark’s footsteps backed away from where Loki huddled. Then, the rapid steps left the room, raced down the hallway to Stark's bedroom. The door slammed and Loki waited. There was nothing else he could do. The binding had him in it's teeth again. He did not fight the need to submit. It was better to let himself feel it, acknowledge it but not let it overwhelm his mind. It was a balancing act, and one he did not always succeed at. It was exhausting, to try and preserve some space in his mind for thought, for planning and strategizing. Some space for himself.

The sun went down, casting long shadows through the room. Loki started to count. His knees added their complaints to the list of pains in his body. At least he was on the rug, not on the hard marble floor. Loki was wise enough to be grateful for such small mercies. Although, he berated himself, he was not wise enough to avoid the need for them.

Loki stroked the rug under his fingers to center himself. Whatever Stark was going to do when he came back, Loki had to take it. He had no other option. Resistance would only lead to more pain. He had been tricked by Stark’s gentleness after his injury, bringing him food in his room, giving him time to rest. He had allowed himself to forget that Stark was still his master, still owned and controlled him utterly. He would not make such a mistake again.

Loki's count had reached over two thousand when the growing darkness of the room was interrupted by the crash and rainbow light of the bi-frost. Loki's heart jumped at the thought of his brother's return. Surely Stark would not punish him harshly with the king of Asgard as a witness? He could hope for that, at least. As glad as he was for the potential protection of his brother, Loki hardly relished the thought of being seen in such a state. But there was no help for it. Friday helpfully opened the door to the balcony, and Thor strode in.

From under his lowered head, Loki watched Thor look around the penthouse. He took in the mess, the half-eaten meals, the nest of blankets on the couch. His confident steps faltered as he realized that something bad must have happened, to turn the pristine space into such a disaster. Finally, he turned and his gaze lit on Loki, left kneeling on the floor, alone, like so much worthless trash.

“LOKI!”

Loki could not respond, of course. He could not speak, or hide his broken arm, or his half-dressed state, or the bruise around his neck, in the shape of a mortal’s hand.

“STARK!” Thor bellowed, and Loki winced. Any aggression against his owner would not end well for him. Either he would be punished after his brother's departure, or Thor would be so angered at his treatment that he would take him away from Stark start the whole cycle again.

Stark hurried out from the bedroom. He had showered and changed his clothes. That was good. He had taken time to calm down before returning to administer Loki’s punishment. Or had he been stalling to let Loki fret, to draw out his fear? Loki could not tell, could not guess.

Before Thor could draw breath to speak or make demands, Stark held up his hand, his face set and determined.

“Explanations later. We're ending this. Come with me, both of you.”

Stark headed for the elevator and the binding  _ pushed _ Loki to do the same. He had been given an order, and he had to obey. Loki shuddered at the familiar feeling, absent for the past few weeks. He made to follow, but Thor still gripped his good shoulder. Pulling away from the grasp of the Asgardian King would certainly result in punishment. Would it be harsher or lesser than the punishment that would result from disobeying Stark? Luckily, Loki did not have to find out. Stark noticed his dilemma.

“Let him go Thor, or he’ll get hurt.”

Thor misinterpreted the statement as a threat. He released his grip and allowed Loki to stagger to his feet and scurry after his master. Thor scowled as he did so, “Stark, you will not punish my brother for such a thing! You can clearly see he is not at fault!”

Stark was unfazed. “That’s not how it works, big guy. I don’t make the rules. This situation is fucked up and I'm ending it.”

“What do you plan to do? What has happened here?” Thor indicated Loki’s arm, his bruises, his cowed silence. He joined them in the elevator, each of them warily taking separate corners.

Stark bunched the button to take them to the lab. “Long story," he said, "Short version - Thanos tried to open a portal in my lab, Loki stopped him.”

Thor's jaw dropped. “Thanos! He was here? How? How was he defeated?”

The elevator deposited them outside the lab. Stark waved them forward, Thor questioning and Loki silent. Stark did not waste time, gathering the equipment that he needed. Loki shivered when he saw what his master held. The Chitauri artifacts, the heavy cuffs he had used on Loki, and the remote control.

“Thor, I will happily tell you the whole sorry tale, but first, I’m done with this slavery bullshit. I’m taking this collar off.” Stark reached out and tugged on Loki’s collar, one finger tucked under the metal band. Loki passively allowed Stark to pull him forward, but his mind was spinning. Stark would remove the collar? The collar held the binding. Without the collar, Loki would be free. Did Stark know that? Or did he think the binding would remain? But then, why would he even want to remove the collar? Loki’s heart was pounding. Did Stark mean it? More to the point, could he do it?

Thor gripped Loki’s arm and pulled him away from Stark’s proprietary touch. Loki was unresistant. He felt like a chew-toy being pulled from one to the other.

“What do you mean to do?” Thor asked, suspicious.

“I told you. Collar’s coming off. That thing is bad news. Loki's had his punishment. It's over." Stark folded his arms, pushed out his chin. "Anyway, we’ve got bigger problems. Thanos attacked Earth, and he'll try again. If we want to defeat that asshole, we can’t be distracted with this kind of bullshit. And we’ll need all the allies we can get.” Stark cast a meaningful look at Loki.

“My friend,” Thor moved closer to Stark, his voice lowered but still clearly audible to Loki, who stood a few steps away. “If you release Loki, he will be gone from this place and will never return. Do not...do not be hasty.”

Loki crushed the seed of hope that had started blooming in his chest. Thor was Stark’s shield brother, his trusted ally. If he advised against releasing Loki, no doubt Stark would listen to him. That his own brother would rather keep him bound, than risk him taking his freedom and leaving, well, that was no surprise. Loki knew Thor loved him, but as a elder loves a younger brother, convinced he knew what was best and that Loki would be happier if he would only fall into line. Loki looked down. He would rather not watch his life and fate discussed and dismissed right in front of him. If he was to be a slave, better for this conversation never to have happened, never to have experienced that spark of hope at all.

“Nope,” Stark was saying, when Loki had calmed the rushing in his ears and could listen again. “Thor, I know you’d rather him stick around, but this is not the way to do it. It’s torture, it’s not justice. It’s turning me into someone I don’t like, someone I don’t want to be. I’m releasing him. He can stay or go, it’s up to him.”

Thor bristled, stepped between Loki and Tony. “Stark, if you longer want this responsibility I will take my brother and trouble you no more. I will find another place for him.”

Stark laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah? Someone else to abuse him? Someone else to beat him and fuck him and tell him it’s for his own good? Who do you have in mind for that job? Someone who cares about Loki, or someone who doesn't? Hard to decide which one is worse.”

Thor growled but Stark was not done. “Come on Thor, no one could follow these fucked up rules and not turn into a monster. You can’t treat people that way and not have it change you. You know that, right?" Stark scrubbed his hands through his hair, facing away from them both. "I'm not...I'm not saying I was in my right mind towards the end of this...but at the beginning I'm pretty sure I was, and still I did things I never thought I would. Believe me Thor, there’s nowhere you can take him, no one you can give him to that isn’t going to treat him like a slave. That isn’t going to treat him like a whore. It’s in the rules. The game is rigged.”

There was silence for a moment, Loki barely breathed as his fate hung in the balance. Could Stark win over his brother? Even if he could, could he do as he claimed and remove the collar? In the penthouse he had said he did not know if he could do it anymore. Loki tried not to raise his hopes. Hope was a dangerous thing for him to hold to, but this was the closest he had come in four years to thinking that maybe he would not die as a slave.

Thor sighed and stepped back, resigned. "Very well," he said, his head low, "We will do this thing. We will release Loki."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning my friends, we are on the final few chapters, things will be coming to a close pretty soon! Thank you so much for all your support, I honestly would not have written this fic if it was not for you all.


	33. Binding

Loki crushed the surge of excitement in his belly. Words meant nothing, he reminded himself. Indeed, words meant less than nothing. He recalled the times, few enough, that Odin had professed his love for his ill-gotten child. Still he had watched impassive as his guards dragged Loki in chains to the auction block. Loki swallowed down that memory. He preferred not to think of it, to take each day as it came. But now, the thought of freedom bought it all back, what his life had been like before. He had had responsibilities, yes. But within those bounds, he had been able to go where he pleased, to do as he pleased. He could chose work to increase his knowledge and expand his mind, or chose to laze a day away. He could eat whatever and whenever he wanted. He could share his body, or not, as he chose. He clenched and unclenched his hands. Perhaps he could have that again.

They walked to the back of the lab. Loki expected Stark to use the cuffs on him, to restrain him should he turned vengeful when the collar was removed. He would not mind submitting to such a precaution, even though, in truth, vengeance was far from his mind. Instead, Stark pointed Loki to the tattered couch. He huffed in frustration when Loki didn’t sit on it, but rather knelt before it. Loki could hardly do anything else, unless ordered directly to use the furniture he simply could not. Stark shoved the familiar bench under the worktable and sat on the floor opposite Loki. Stark used his injured hand with difficulty to cuff his other wrist to the bolt in the floor. He tossed the remote to Thor.

“OK, so if I start to act ...not like myself, don’t let me go until I give these to you,” he held up the Chitauri artifacts. “I don’t know if there’s still a connection with  _ him _ . I don’t know how Loki is going to react. I’ve actually never released someone from magical slavery before, so you know…” he tailed off. “I guess we’ll see how it goes. Questions?”

Thor stomped in a small circle, seeming too big for the cluttered space of the lab. “Nay. Let us do this. Loki has waited four years, we will not make him wait longer.”

Loki shivered. Thor, despite his initial reluctance, seemed eager to release him. Perhaps his first reaction had simply been ill-thought alarm at the possibility of Loki leaving him, rather than a sincere belief that his brother was better off as a slave. Thor needed do little to earn Loki’s forgiveness, he had rescued him from the Nidavellir, after all. None other had cared to even make an attempt. Loki's thoughts ran around each other, thinking of Thor, of his past. Anything to avoid thinking of what was happening now. If Stark tried and failed, Loki knew there was no other who would even try. He would be a slave until his death, his whole long life taken from him and given to another, to use as they pleased. An eternity in the dungeons was preferable.

Loki held his breath. Stark slipped the wristband over his unbound hand. He was only wearing a light brace now on that hand, his injury must be almost healed. Stark held the headband up to his temples. The metal studs still embedded in his flesh clicked and the glass screen lit up. There was a crack in one corner, but Loki could still see the familiar glow. Loki could not look up at Stark directly, he kept his head down as the binding enforced. From the corner of his eye he saw Stark begin to move his hand, searching through the energy signatures that only he could see.

It took a long time. Thor quickly grew restless, shuffling from foot to foot, then pacing the lab, tossing and catching the remote control to the cuffs. Loki silently willed him to be still. He was anxious and stressed enough without his brother distracting Stark from Loki’s one chance of freedom.

Loki's mind churned as he waited. If this worked, if Stark was sincere and he removed the collar, what would Loki do? Four years was not so long compared to his lifespan, but it was long enough to forget what it would be like to do as he pleased, to answer to no one. The idea of freedom made him anxious. Almost as anxious as the idea that he may not be freed. He hoped for his release, but perhaps a tiny wretched part of him yearned to stay with Stark. To avoid the responsibility of freedom, of making his own decisions. The tower had become his home, or the closest thing he had to it. He was not safe here, of course, but the threat was known and limited. Out there, out in the world, threats were numberless, and Loki no longer had the protection of his name, of his family, of the strength of Asgard. All he would have, would be himself. Would that be enough?

Loki clamped his hands together to stop them shaking. Even now the binding was pushing him to be useful and serve, even though he was already doing exactly as he had been ordered. He had realized years ago, the binding was not designed to create a good slave. It was designed to torment and degrade the victim. To force them to demean themselves and to be enough trouble to their master that they would never be valued for more than sport. It truly was a sadistic punishment.

Loki attempted to meditate, as he had on his first day in the tower. He became aware of his breathing, of Stark's breathing, of his brother’s pacing and the sound of him tossing and catching the remote control. It made a pleasing rhythm and Loki could hardly mind his restlessness. If he had the freedom to pace and fret, he would be doing the same. Instead he focused inward. The binding pressed down on him, and he did not resist it, he let it flow around him like water. He would have to do what it forced him to do, he knew that now. He had no hope to resist, his only hope was in Stark's mercy. His mercy, and his skill.

If his fate was to be a slave, could he hope for better treatment than from this mortal? He had few enough friends, if he could even call them that. He would not trust any of them not to turn on him as soon as his weakness was revealed. He could only wish he had become acquainted with some less ruthless and ambitious people. Stark at least was trying to free him, and before Thanos had twisted his mind, he had been kind enough.

Loki startled and shook himself as he realized what he was doing. He was convincing himself to accept this life, to accept Stark as his master. He reminded himself that Stark had beaten him, that he had made use of his body even after he lifted the necessity of the binding. He may not be as bad as the Nidavellir, but if this did not work, he would not be Loki’s savior, he would be his owner.

“There…” Stark breathed, and Loki's attention snapped back to the man sitting on the floor. Loki held his breath, he felt the binding shift and move. It squirmed in his mind, as though trying to evade Stark’s touch. Loki did not move or allow any expression to cross his face. He did not want Stark to stop if he thought Loki was reacting badly. No matter how difficult it was, Loki was determined to endure it stoically. He would not be the reason that this one chance did not work. Before, when Stark had lifted the binding, it had floated up from his mind like a feather. This time did not feel the same. The binding was fighting to remain. Perhaps it could sense Stark’s intentions. Removing a thrall-collar was challenging even for a trained mage. Stark was an inexperienced Midgardian, ignorant of the magical arts.

Loki knelt, hands clenched, every muscle tensed, teeth grinding together as the binding tore away from his mind. He did not realize how embedded it was until it started to come away. It was as though he had been looking through a dark glass that was now lifted, as though he had been breathing dust and mold and then stepped out into cool clean air. It was a relief but also a horror to understand how twisted he had become. If the binding snapped back on him now, Loki thought he would die. He would rather that, than to be shoved back beneath that darkness again.

“There!” Stark said again, satisfaction coloring his tone this time. Without ceremony, the collar opened and fell from Loki’s throat. The binding evaporated. He was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting so close now!!! You guys have been so awesome!   
> *blows kisses to you all*


	34. The Prince in the Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crying*
> 
> This is it, the final chapter.
> 
> (Crying because it's over, not because of any evil twist at the end)

Loki knew immediately that his Seidr was depleted. The vast well of his magical power was almost empty, drained over the past four years. The binding had prevented the power of Yggdrasil from flowing through him, prevented the connection that was part of his very nature. His instinct to flee was impossible, unless he wanted to stand up and walk out.

Absent-mindedly he healed his broken arm, and healed the bruise around his throat. He let a wash of healing magic cover him from head to foot and relieve a hundred small discomforts. The chafed wrists, the headache, the lingering tightness on his back, ass and thighs from punishments and use. Healing himself took little power, it was merely restoring his body to the state it wished to be in. Much easier that teleportation, which required his body to be _other_ than it should be.

Loki glanced up, Thor and Stark were both watching him like a wild animal, wondering what he would do now. Well, he would not disappoint. He cast a more costly and showy wash of magic to get rid of the cast on his arm, and replace his Midgardian clothes with his customary leather garb. He stood up. Stark was still cuffed to the bolt on the floor, but he did not seem inclined to move, he just stared up at Loki. Thor cautiously stepped closer, holding out his hand to Loki.

“Brother…” he began, but Loki did not care at all what he had to say. The only thing he needed, was to not be here, not to have to look at Thor or Stark, and not to be in this place where he had been beaten and raped. It was too risky to teleport. Even desperate to leave as he was, Loki was aware that attempting it now, with no reserves, could easily be his end. The slightest miscalculation and he would not be able to correct. He could be lost in the pathways between worlds forever. His seidr was trickling back, even in a short time he would be able to travel, to access one of his boltholes, his supplies, his books. Loki yearned for such safety. To be alone, to be where no one knew. No one to find him and drag him back, no one to give him orders or use him or punish him. The need surged, but he crushed it down. He did not survive the last four years to end his own life now through impatience and impulsiveness.

Instead, he fell back on his instincts. Distract, deceive and misdirect. He straightened his spine and held his chin up. The posture was strange to him, so used to cowering and making himself smaller, less offensive. Thor still was standing there, hand extended in Loki’s direction, some gesture of brotherly friendship no doubt. Loki was grateful to him, but not grateful enough to stay and play the part of the doting younger brother. Loki stepped forward, extending his hand also, as though to take his brothers arm, or even to embrace him. A relieved smile bloomed on Thor’s face, then strangled when Loki instead snatched the remote control from Thor’s open palm. He smirked, cast a flashy shower of green sparks, and made himself invisible.

Loki caught the edge of Stark’s shout “No! These cuffs are titanium reinforced…” before he cast the deadening spell. It hid all sounds he made, but also had the unfortunate effect of deadening his own hearing. The more sophisticated spell to deaden sounds but leave his hearing intact was beyond his capabilities at the moment. He could see dawning realization on Thor’s face and resignation on Stark’s, who had put it together much faster. Loki took a few small steps to the side, his back against the wall, when he remembered FRIDAY.

Hand fumbling, he cast another spell to hide the heat from his body. He did not know what other senses she had. If she could sense magic itself, there was nothing he could do about it. She did not seem to have said anything to Stark, at least not yet. Loki watched as Thor and Stark conferred, their mouths moving but no sound reaching Loki’s ears. Stark was pulling at the cuff, to no avail. Loki had worn those cuffs, they were built to hold back a god, a mortal had no chance to break them. He settled back against the wall and watched for a while. Stark was directing Thor to collect equipment from around the lab, and Thor was gamely trying to find the pieces Stark needed.

Loki was not feeling particularly vengeful. He simply wanted to leave, but he could be patient, and while he waited he would be entertained.

He was free. Although he was low on seidr and still in his former owner’s home, he was free. He need only wait, and soon enough he would be gone. He leaned against the wall and watched the pantomime in front of him, allowing his mind to wander where his body could not. Perhaps he would go to Alfheim. The boundary to Yggdrasil was weaker there and his power would quickly replenish. He had a small villa there, maintained by an incurious staff on a generous stipend. No doubt they were still there, keeping the villa clean and the cellar stocked, waiting for their benevolent and eccentric lord to return. He would need to maintain a minimal glamor, but once he was there that would be no trouble. That wasn't the problem with Alfheim. The thought of being around people itched at his skin and he knew that was not the place he needed. Not Alfhiem nor any of the other realms. He knew where he would go. Asgard. 

Asgard had given it’s power to Odin but it had given it’s secrets to Loki. He knew the hidden pathways that would take him to his secret home in the mountains, where only the birds flew. No other had ever set foot there, and his first act upon finding the place, centuries ago, had been to ward it against all scrying and far-sight. Even Muninn and Huginn could fly over it and not know it was there. His spire, built with his hands and his magic, among the peaks. He had books there, food enough for a while, and what comforts he needed. The only comfort he truly cared for was to be alone.

Loki shook himself. Soon enough, he would be there. His power was trickling back. Thor was heading for the door, walking backwards and nodding while Stark continued explaining to him. He was probably describing what particular tool he needed to break the cuffs. Loki silently stepped along with Thor, one pace behind, hoping to slip out of the door at the same time. He would recover his power elsewhere in the tower, somewhere he was less likely to be accidentally bumped and discovered. A movement caught his eye. The robot that roamed the lab was angling it’s ‘head’ in his direction. It quirked it to one side, as though considering. For a machine it was capable of some startlingly accurate mimicry. Loki kept walking, one eye on the robot. It watched him pass by. Loki knew it was watching him, or whatever the robot equivalent was. Was the robot part of Friday? Did Friday know he was there? Thor and Stark did not seem to react or notice the robot’s action. Loki kept walking.

Thor left the lab and Loki ghosted out after him. Loki was limited to the doors that were already open, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He left Thor to rummage through a secure storage area, and wandered off by himself down the hallway. It seemed to be mostly unused lab or medical spaces. Loki strolled into what looked like a medical bay and hesitated for only a moment before he sat on the comfortable chair he found there. Sitting on chairs was allowed now. He refused to examine his anxiety to be found sitting here, not working, not where he was supposed to be. He was free, he reminded himself, he just could not leave yet. Why was he even hiding? Stark and Thor would not have freed him only to attempt to detain him again, surely. In his heart, he knew why he was hiding out in this unused room. He simply could not be around any other person, he could not listen to a single word or tolerate a single glance on him. He felt raw, too open, too vulnerable. He had to wait though, or risk disaster when he left. He reclined in the chair, kept his eyes open. It would not be long now.

The eerie silence in his ears prevented him from falling into a meditative state. All he could do was sit there and wait. He was astonished that Stark had only made one remote for the cuffs, and that Friday was not able to release them herself. He had little sympathy for him, after what he had done. This was a small inconvenience, nothing more. Loki found he had no appetite for vengeance. Had Loki not been in the tower, Stark still would have experimented with the Chitauri artifacts, and Thanos may have succeeded in his plan. Loki would hardly say he was glad to have been there, but he _was_ glad to have been able to thwart Thanos. He was their common enemy, and the enemy of all life.

He watched an hour pass on the wall clock, then stood and stretched. He was ready to go. A light blinked on a screen that he knew had been black and lifeless when he entered. He turned to check it.

 _Loki,_ read the screen _, kindly leave the remote control on the table when you go. F.R.I.D.A.Y._

Loki chewed his lip. He pulled the small control device out of his pocket and placed it gently on the table.

_Thank you._

Loki smiled, sure that FRIDAY was watching him. He gave her a small wave of his fingers in goodbye. She was an artificial intelligence, but still she had helped him as much as she could. She was Stark’s creation, and was bound by her duty to Stark as much Loki himself had been by the binding. Without her, his time with Stark would have been very different. He would do her this favor, and allow her to release Stark from the cuffs. He would get free soon enough anyway, this would make little difference. Loki had made his point.

Without regret, Loki gathered his magic and stepped into the place between worlds. He stepped out moments later into the cold, clear air of his mountain spire. High above Asgard’s cities and towns, the unfiltered light was almost blinding. The magical fields of Asgard began to fill his reserves, an open spigot that refreshed and rejuvenated him, so unlike the slow trickle of Midgard. He raised his arms and turned in a full circle. The simple stone walls, the furniture untouched by time or dust, the stores of food, clothes, weapons. Everything in this place was protected by his powerful wards, including now, himself.

He threw open the window and leaned out, frigid air making him gasp and his eyes water. He was back. He was back and he was free. Loki of Asgard. Asgard was something bigger than any one person, than any one king, and Loki was a part of it. He knew he would protect it when the time came. After all, he was a prince. He knew his duty. But for now, he relished his safety, here in his mountain tower. He could rest, and heal. And be ready for what came next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *more crying*
> 
> I am leaving it here, I am sure Thanos will be back and Loki and Thor and Tony will meet up again, and maybe even Loki and Odin will meet up again, but this is the story I wanted to tell. Thank you all so much for your support while I have been writing this fic. I honestly and truly could not have done it without you all cheering me on.
> 
> *hugs for all of you*  
> (this means YOU)


End file.
